


I Can't Wear Gold

by Insomniac_with_dreams



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Confused Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din is a mess, Fluff, Force Sensitivity (Star Wars), Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Human Grogu | Baby Yoda, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Kinda, M/M, Mand'alore Din, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Protective Din Djarin, Protective Grogu | Baby Yoda, Protective Luke Skywalker, Self-Doubt, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, lil angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac_with_dreams/pseuds/Insomniac_with_dreams
Summary: Terrick moves towards the door, leaving Din to watch him walk away, “If it comes down to it Mand’alore and you plan on continuing this,” Terrick waves a hand vaguely around the room, “Then I may feel compelled to find someone more fit for the throne. Never,” the look he levels at Din is all grave seriousness, “Never has Mand’alore had two kings, and never  has an outsider taken the throne.”“I already am an outsider,” Din says, Terrick frowns deeper.“I know.”Din takes off his helmet when Terrick finally leaves. The confines becoming heavy and dank. Breathing deep, Din stares down at the gold, then over at Grogu who is frowning in his sleep, skin still pink.“I can’t wear gold,” he whispers as if the walls would agree and give him the permission to leave. Din doesn’t run, not often at least, but now he’s so tempted. The hunger for a fight, to move and chase and catch. The bounty hunter that he’d trained himself into and that had slept dormant for months is reawakening. His blood sings with the need to chase something. His heart thrashes at his rib cage with adrenaline that he can’t dispel. He sits heavily on the bed, letting the helmet slip from his fingers onto the floor.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	I Can't Wear Gold

The armor that is presented to him is gold, and the cloak draped across his shoulders is blood red. Din lets them dress him, staring out of his visor, the only thing still familiar to him, at the wall. It’s suffocatingly quiet, the Mandalorians that dress him don’t have their faces covered and they look across him at each other with a loud disdain. 

“We’ll leave you now Mand’alore.” One of them says, her dark eyes to the ground. She leaves the new golden helmet on the tall wardrobe by the bed. The door shuts and Din stumbles, leaning heavily against the bed that’s far too big, his breaths coming in sharp pants. Golden plates of beskar feel like a cage instead of the sanctuary his old armor used to offer him. He’s going to have to take off the last piece of himself and replace it with the golden crown that sits across the room for him. How? How did he get here? Burying his head in his hands Din shudders. Shudders against this new weight that sits on him, a weight he didn’t mean to claim. The people of this planet had looked at him with hollow eyes and barely hidden sneers, he wasn’t like them. How could they think that he could do this?

The door opens and Din snaps his head towards it, not ready to shadow the crippling weakness to these people. It’s not a Mandalorian, but his kid, peering around the door with big green eyes, up on his tiptoes to reach the handle.

“Grogu,” Din murmurs. They’ve changed him too. His little brown clothing replaced with soft clean creams. Din supposes it’s something he can be grateful for. Grogu was long overdue for something that fit his tiny form better. Din holds out his arms. “Come here kid.” Grogu beams, closing the door behind him as he patters on soft slipper adorned feet. Din picks him up resting him on his lap. “How’d you get away from them you little womp rat?”

“I was sneaky papa!” Grogu grabs his new red cloak wrinkling his nose at the new fabric. Din chuckles, hugging Grogu closer to him.

“I’m glad you found me.”

Grogu pulls away from him, planting his little hands on Din’s shoulders, “Papa, are you sad?”

Din struggles to answer. He can’t lie to his kid, doesn’t want to. But how can he so selfishly admit that he is when he’s brought Grogu to this place? Sighing Din nods, ‘I am a little sad Grogu, it’s okay though.”

“How is it okay if you’re still sad?” Grogu scrunches his face up and hops a little on Din’s thighs.

“Well, I won’t be sad forever and I have you.” Din bops his nose and ruffles his dark hair. Grogu seems pleased with the answer, hooking his arms back around Din’s neck.

“How long are we going to be here for papa?”

That’s a good question, and  _ dank ferrick,  _ he hates that he picked up that damn sword. Grogu is clean though, and fed, he has a bed to sleep in and so does Din. Grogu will be tired of the routine that will be set in place for him in a few days, Din knows he will be. They’ve traveled too far and too long, sharing the tiny space on the Razor Crest. 

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here. If it was a long time would you be okay with that?” Din asks, even if it makes him wince a little bit. Grogu debates twisting the red fabric in his fingers.

“Only if I don’t have to stay in that other place. It was scary papa.” he says it as earnestly as anything else says. A young little honesty that is sometimes a little heartbreaking. Din’s sigh rattles out from under his helmet. He tucks Grogu closer.

“I promise you won’t have to.”

“Promise?” his r’s are blunt rolling off his tongue in a slurred ‘w’ sound. “That lady says I have to stay in that place.”

“I promise.” Din laughs a little disbelievingly, “Cuz believe it or not kid, I make the rules around here.”

“Papa always made the rules!”Grogu cheers.

“And you never listened to them,” Din laughs. Grogu wiggles out of his arms, climbing him like a tree to sit on his shoulder. Hugging his helmet with one arm and waving the other.

“Rules are boring!” Din stands, grabbing Grogu and hoisting him over his head, flying him around the lavish room. He forgets for a little bit, about the golden armor.

They come and get him for dinner. A different Mandalorian woman, she looks alarmed to see Grogu dozing on the bed but says little about it.

“It is time for the evening dinner Mandalore.” she tips her head to Din, folding her hands behind her back and waiting. 

“Ah, um,” The thought of eating a meal with others makes nausea swirl in the pit of Din’s stomach. “I see.” he crosses to the bed, gathering Grogu onto his hip. The woman hesitates.

“Mandalore, normally foundlings, are not permitted at the table. We would bring him food to his room at a later time.”

That gives Din even more pause. He knows that all Mandalorians treat younglings a little differently. 

“I would like him to sit with me. We are in a new place and it would bring me comfort to know where he is.” Din shifts Grogum, who is more awake now higher. The woman’s back straightens, and Din hates it, she nods once.

“Of course Mand’alore.”

He follows her, the cape dragging the floor and the armor feeling stiff and wrong. Grogu clings tightly, eyes wide as they pass through unfamiliar hallways. Torches line the buttresses that reach high enough that they disappear into the dark, and guards stand like statues every second one. Din finds himself rubbing Grogu’s back up and down, and he can’t tell if he’s comforting his child or himself.

“Papa,” Grogu whispers in not so much a whisper. His little voice tumbling down the hallway in front of them. He ducks his head against Din’s shoulder, fingers tightening against the red fabric.

“Yes?” Din asks, and his voice is much better maintained. 

“Where are we going?” Smiling at the over exaggerated hush of Grogu’s voice, Din gently knocks his helmet against Grogu’s temple.

“We’re going to dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Mmhm, I’m hungry papa. What are we eating?”

A ritual for them, when Grogu was learning to talk and Din was learning to talk to him, was at every stop or even when they made dinner with what was aboard the ship at the time, Grogu would ask what they were eating. Often Din would answer with a shrug and a ‘whatever we got’, but sometimes he’d know what was served at the local cantina’s and would be able to provide a more colorful answer. It just sort of stuck after that.

“I’m not sure. We’ll have to see I suppose.” The Mandalorian glances back at them before stepping into a more hurried pace. Din isn’t sure whether to be grateful for that or not. It means deliverance from the dark hallways, but it sets them closer to their destination.

The hall ends at a set of huge doors. Guards pull them open to reveal a huge room lit by fire light. A long table takes up most of the room and already people sit around it. Grogu hides himself further against Din’s shoulder. He wishes he could do the same, or turn and run fast and far far away. The Mnadalorian’s at the table stand. All of them taking off their helmets in one creepily coordinated movement. The metal hits the wood of the table all together and the now bare faced warriors bow at  _ him. _ Swallowing he nods back at them, unsure of what to do. Bo-Katan is glaring hard at the table, her hands clenched hard by her sides. 

“ Pull out our Mandalor’s chair,” The man who speaks is so old that his armor seems to be oozing off of his body. Hanging with the sag of his skin. One of the guards steps forward and pulls out a chair at the head of the table. Din thinks he might vomit right then and there. Instead he walks, grip tight of Grogu, to his spot ignoring the eyes that follow him. It’s with little grace that Din takes his place, trying in vain to get Grogu to stop clinging to him in such a way. Allowing Grogu to cling to his front seems to be the only way he’s sitting down. Once settles, child back to hiding, Din struggles to meet the judgmental eyes around the table. They’re still standing, waiting, Din thinks. They’re waiting for something and he has no idea what it is. 

“May we sit Mand’alore?” Bo-Katan hisses. Din swallows and to him it rings through the hall.

“Oh. Um, y-yes. Sit.” his voice filters raspy out of the helmet. The other warriors all sit, nodding their heads to him again. They sit, and continue to sit. Din sweats, Grogu squirms, and the other Mandalorians watch him. 

“May we start our meal  _ Mand’alore?” _ Bo-katan again. Her eyes glinted in the fire’s flashing throughout the hall. 

Din licks over dry lips, “Yes.”

The hall becomes a jumble of blessed activity after that. People carrying platters of food, and cups of liquids Din has never seen before but look delicious to him. A heaping plate is set on the table in front of him, more food then he could possibly ever eat. Grogu has peeled himself from Din’s chest, enthralled and excited by the wondrous smells. 

“Papa,” a small hand bats at Din’s helmet, “Papa what's that?” he’s pointing to the plate, and the meat that glistens in a honey colored glaze.

“I’m not sure,” he says lowly. The clamor in the hall is starting to die down now. The blessed distraction gone, leaving behind silence and awkwardness. “Why don’t you have some?”

The sharp intakes of breaths around them have Din pulling Grogu’s hand back before he can pick up a piece of meat. The elder that had addressed the guard earlier turns water grey eyes on din.

“The Mand’alore is to eat first. Always. The meal cannot start until you take the first bite.” 

Eat. Him. In front of them. He can’t. That would mean removing his helmet in front of them, showing them  _ him.  _ He  _ can’t. _

“M-my son will eat in my place. Once he eats his first bite then all of you can.” Din’s voice stutters, and Grogu peers up at him with wide eyes. The elder’s own eyes flare and a general shifting ripples around the table.

“Your foundling is welcome here Mand’alore, but we can hardly allow him to take your place in something like this.” A woman with long dark hair woven into intricate braids and piled against her head speaks up. Murmurs of agreement go up around the table. Din resists the urge to sigh long and loud.

“Is the food not to your liking?” The elder asks him. 

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Din says stiffly, “But I do not feel comfortable taking my helmet off.” it has some bite to it, and Din stares straight ahead at the door. The silence at the table is only punctuated by Bo-Katan’s quiet scoff. Grogu is starting to look scared, probably feeling Din’s discontent. 

“I see,” The elder mutters, “Very well. If you want us to begin then we shall.”

“Please.” Waving his hand vaguely at the meal Din prays the stares will be directed elsewhere. The relief the sound of clinking cutlery brings him makes his shoulders sag. Grogu presses his hands to his stomach staring at the food. Din nudges him weakly. Any energy he had seems to be sucked out of him. “Go ahead. It’s for you.”

He hands Grogu the fork by the plate just to be on the safe side, the last thing he needs is the Mandalorians looking down on his son. The concentration Grogu puts into using the utensil is adorable and slightly sad. His tongue peeks out of his mouth in concentration and he keeps stopping to rearrange the handle in his hand. Din reaches out eventually, after letting the kid struggle enough. Wrapping his own fingers around the fork he helps Grogu use it, spearing pieces of tener meat that frankly smells delicious.

“You’ll have to tell me how it tastes, kid.” Din mutters.

The rest of the meal is exhausting and silent. No one talks, they just eat and send glances at him, or maybe at Grogu who seems immune to the tension and slurps away happily at anything he can get his hands on. Din pushed the cup of unknown liquid far away from him. When the tension reaches what feels like a breaking point, the food is swept away just as fast as it had been brought. Din stands first, ready beyond all comparison to get out of that room. Grogu had faded fast once his stomach was full. He was back to clinging to Din all dead weight.

“Tomorrow,” The elder addressed him, as his companions tucked their helmets beneath their arms. “We shall meet together and discuss some matters.”

Din nods jerkily, maybe a little too fast, a little too eager to get away. “Okay.” he walks past them to the door as they seem to be waiting for him to move first.

“Oh and Mand’alore?” Din clenches his jaw, stops, turns back around. “Perhaps you should leave the foundling.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says, standing straighter and firmer than he has since arriving on the planet, “Wherever I go, he goes.”

Morning on Mandalore is not especially fantastic. The sun pittles through the still dirty atmosphere and gets caught in raging sand storms before it falls pathetically across Din’s face. It’s not the sun that wakes him, but a swift kick in the stomach from a Grogu who is still sleeping like the dead from their last trip to the bathroom a few cursed hours earlier. The large bed seems to have given the kid more opportunity to stretch completely out and kick Din to the side. Groaning he sits up, his head aches softly from where he slept in the helmet. Grogu had stared at him like he’d gone mad as he laid down with it on, and hell maybe he had. The fear of someone coming in in the early morning when he was most vulnerable had prompted the helmet to stay on and for his loaded blaster to sit close to him on the bedside table. His fears had not gone unwarranted he sees as he stands to survey the room bathed in dirty light. The golden pieces of beskar that had been thrown with little care onto the vanity were shining in a way that hadn’t been the previous night, and a new set of clothing was laid out for Grogu by it.

Grumbling to himself about privacy and missing the cramped and creaky Razor Crest, Din walks on freezing tile to the refresher that’s connected to the room. Another blessing Din thought as he relieved himself. Grogu’s late night trips would have been a nightmare had they needed to walk the huge palace to find one. It’s a big refresher too, though everything that had been given to Din seems to be big. Bigger than he deserves and bigger than he wants. Massive amounts of floor stretch across the entire room. Dainty cracks painting the stone in rivers of dark blue. In the corner under a window of ruby and yellow painted glass sits a tub. Only every once and awhile had Din felt the pleasure of a tub, filled with fizzing water and fragrant salts. He indulged himself every once and awhile on richer planets. He runs his hands along the empty stone basin lined with copper etching. A pretty thing. The Mandalorians had spared no expense when they had rebuilt their planet. Din vows never to bathe in it.

Grogu is up and standing on tip toes to peer out the window when Din gets back. He needs a haircut. Strands of hair curling down past his ears. He’ll sharpen his knife and do it tonight.

“What are you up to womp rat?” Din asks, starting the task of layering on armor. He keeps his eyes on his kid, better than thinking about the gold plates. Grogu huffs as he drops down to flat feet.

“Papa, are you hungy?” he asks bluntly, clasping his little hands in front of his chest, and staring up at Din.

Din laughs, securing a pauldron, an empty pauldron, he tries not to think about it. “Why? Are you hungry, Grogu?”

The pout creasing Grogu’s face deepens and he huffs louder, hands going from clasped to balled, arms crossed. “Papa, I asked first.”

Din sighs, there’s a mirror on the wall and he glances into it, making sure the armor is straight. “A little bit kid. But don’t worry about it okay?” The clothes for Grogu are a dark brown today, soft as the cream outfit was. Din is a little enchanted by them. “Come now, we have a big day.”

Grogu let Din dress him, holding his arms up when asked and pulling the slippers on himself, though he had to sit full on the floor in order to do so. Din is helping him stand up when a knock sounds on the door. 

“Come in,” Din calls after a few panicked seconds of debate. A man peers into the room, bowing lowly to him. “Can I help you?” Din asks.

“Ah. I was sent to dress the foundling.”

Din stares at him, “Dress the foundling?”

“Yes,” the bow gets deeper, “It is my task to dress the foundling, and in a few minutes someone will come and aid you with your attire.”

Din reels, “I thought that was a one time thing.”

The man chances a darting look up at him, “Ah no.”

‘I can dress my own kid, and myself.” Din snaps, maybe a little harshly by the flinch in the man’s shoulders.

“Of course, but if ever you need help with the foundling I am here to take care of all his needs.”

“No.” Din says, lowly, protectiveness rising in him like hackles on a dog. “I’ve raised Grogu since he was an infant. I am very capable of handling all of his needs.”

“You are the Mand’alore, at times you will find yourself busy. It is simply an offer.”

Din sends him away rather quickly, telling him to please inform the people sent to dress him that he will not be needing their aid. Grogu trails him as he secures weapons onto his body. One hand wrapped tightly in the cloak. He seems to like it as much as he did Din’s old brown one. It’s longer too, so Grogu can hold it tightly in a fist and be attached to Din. 

The last two weapons he sneers at. They match perfectly with his new role. A sword and a spear he doesn’t think he won and a throne he hadn’t even tried to. The spear though can be appreciated, it saved his life, but more importantly Grogu’s. Din slings it onto his back looking again at the dark sword. The weapon feels useless, awkward in his hand and difficult to wield. Even with the little practice Din had gotten in on Navarro the sword doesn’t fit in his hand. He clips it to his belt and turns back to his kid.

“Ready?” Grogu nods, dropping the cloak and reaching pudgy hands up. Din indulges him, lifting him onto his hip. “You’re getting too big for this.” Din bemoans. Really he isn’t, he still feels so small. Grogu giggles reaching over one golden pauldron and using his powers, Din can’t remember what Ahsoka called them, and lifts the hem of the cloak back into his grasp.

“Are we going on an adventure today papa?” Grogu asks, he’s waving to all of the guards they pass.

“Depends on what you consider an adventure.”

“Outside!” he jumps in Din’s arms and his exclamation rings down the halls.

“Sorry kid, I don’t think we’re going outside today.” Din apologizes. Grogu deflates a little.

“Then what are we going to do?”

Din sighs, “Sit and listen to people talk.” Grogu is quiet, twisting red fabric over and over in his hands.

“That’s not an adventure.” he sounds offended that Din would even try to place such a boring thing on the same level as adventures. 

“I know, I know.” Din mutters, he isn’t going to ask Grogu to put on some special type of behavior. That’s not fair to him, he’s a child, surely they’ll understand if he gets bored and begins to drift. 

The doors are opened for him again, and again it’s awkward to walk to his seat at the end of the table. There are a few new people sitting around the table, the same type of quiet judgement on their faces. Din sits, arranges Grogu comfortably on his lap and allows for the meal to begin. Breakfast is large pastries and warm liquid steaming in the cup placed by his hand. He pushes it away from Grogu’s hands again. 

“Mandalore,” Din looks up at the woman who addressed him. She’s wiping her pale mouth with a napkin, equally pale eyes glued to Grogu, “What is your foundling's name?”

“It’s Grogu,” Din says. The woman smiles a little faintly.

“And where did you find him at?”

Oh dear, Din thinks a little lamely, “Um. I found him on a job.” And sold him to the Empire as an infant for beskar, Din doesn’t say. He still cringes at the thought.

“Ah. I see.”

A knife could cut the tension around the table. Grogu has finished eating, tired already of sitting. Din is hesitant to let him down, but he does anyway.

“Don’t go far,” He murmurs. Grogu nods and runs to the large window towards the end of the hall. The other Mandalorians watch him go with varying degrees of wary, worried and agitated. As long as no powers are used he should be fine, Din tells himself. If anyone dares lay a finger on his son they won’t be walking out of the room.

“So,” the elder from the previous night speaks up, “As the council we have decided to create ties between Mandalore and the rest of the galaxy. What do you say to this Mandalore?”

“I think,” he’s sweating again, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the inside of his helmet. “That’s a wise idea.” Bo-Katan had taught him a little bit about Mandalorian history. Things he had never known and things he honestly has little understanding of even now. The battle torn history of the planet and the violent nature that Bo-Katan’s sister had tried to tame was understandable enough. The planet was still half dead and Mandalorians were still trickling in wary of the changes and weary from years of displacement. War was not an option, and pride was to be shelved for survival to happen. Din had learned, slowly, that comradery with people was not a bad thing. That trust did not have to be something kept locked away.

The elder nods, “The New Republic has already reached out. They are willing to send someone to talk with us.”

“Is the New Republic trustworthy?” A man with shockingly red hair says. His armor is a soft sky blue, the shadow of a signet that has been removed rests against his right pauldron. 

A murmur of agreement. 

“They might not be trust-worthy in the sense you wish Valiant, but they are powerful and if they are willing to help us then we need all the help we can get,” the same woman with the braids says. 

“I agree with Perla. Having the New Republic on our back would help us endlessly.” A bald woman with fierce eyes and a dark tattoo curling around her scalp. 

“But the Jedi,” the woman with pale eyes and lips says. “Will we so blindly welcome one of those evil sorcerers onto our planet again?”

“The Jedi are all but extinct.” Bo-Katan mutters.

“You aligned yourself with the Jedi did you not?” 

Bo-Katan sneers, “It was necessary. Much like an alliance with the New Republic is necessary right now.”

The elder holds up a gnarled hand, “Please. Mandalore, what do you think?”

Din had been trying hard not to glance towards where his foundling had engaged a guard in a game during the entire discussion. He clears his throat now, “We need to welcome the New Republic.”

Bo-Katan rolls her eyes, Valiant looks highly displeased and the bald woman grins. She’s missing her canines, in their place are highly impressive beskar fangs. Perla offers him a smile, he hopes it shows how grateful he is for it.

“Very well. I will inform them that we have taken them up on their offer. A representative shall arrive in a few days.”

The rest of the meeting is hard for Din to follow. He twitches and drums his fingers, unused to sitting still for so long. Grogu wanders back over at some point, crawling into Din’s lap and promptly going to sleep. He forgets that these people wait for him to do things, to  _ give them permission _ for things. And so when the conversation finally dies completely and all eyes turn expectantly to him, Din awkwardly ends the meeting. 

“I’m Adeline,” Din turns to the bald woman, standing with cocked eyebrow and hip, her multi-colored helmet resting against it. Her grin flashes with those teeth.

“ Nice to meet you.” he doesn’t hold out his hand, partly because his arms are full of a sleeping Grogu but also because he’s not sure he can shake her hand. 

Her eyebrow stays quirked but she points to the rest of the people in the room, “Red over there is Valiant, bit of an ass if I do say so myself. That’s Perla, only damn sane person here. That's Mirr, hates kids.” she gives him a meaningful look, before moving on, “That’s Bo-Katan, I only got to know her so I could get close to Koska. And the old guy is Terrick.”

“I see. Thank you for telling me their names.” Din says. The other Mandalorians eye them warily from the door, waiting for Adeline to join them. 

“Yeah sure. It doesn’t hurt to speak up you know. You’re in charge now, we have to listen to everything you say.”

It sounded ominous, and as Din walked back to his room alone with Grogu, he felt a new type of weight rest itself on his shoulders. Leaving Grogu on the bed Din strips himself of the armor, tossing the helmet with little care onto the wardrobe and retreating to the refresher to breath. Sitting on the floor, bare feet cold on the tile Din considers calling Boba and begging that he come rescue him. A cowardly thought, truly. Thunking his head back against the door, Din sighs. There’s a knock on the door of the room and din is sitting bare faced and armor less on the floor of the refresher. He stands, peers carefully out of a crack in the door . Grogu still sleeps on the bed. He crosses the room and pulls on the golden helmet on his way to the door.

“Mand’alore,” a guard from the hall says, “You should be in the throne room at this time.”

He goes, sits on the throne with a sword and a spear neither of which he thinks he’s won and looks out at the people who bow to him. Grogu grows weary of the new routine startlingly fast, but then so does Din. He wakes, eats in his room before Grogu wakes up and then goes to the dinning hall so he can sit with the council while they eat. Then he goes to the throne and sits. Sometimes people come to talk to him, but mostly he is left to be bowed at. Grogu sits on his lap, then sprawls on the floor, then wanders the large shadowy hall. 

“There has to be a courtyard or something that Grogu is allowed to play in,” Din says. Adeline shrugs. She’s been quite the comfort to Din. Brash in a backwater planet way that he understands more than the formal and stiff attitudes of the other council members.

“I guess he could mess around in the training rooms.”

“We have those?” Din asks, maybe a little too excited by the quirked eyebrow he gets.

“Oh yeah. Maybe when you aren’t...busy, I can take you to see them.” She smirks. Din huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’d appreciate that.” he watches Grogu weave in and out of the pillars, playing some game that Din still couldn’t make sense of. “Is it always so quiet here?”

Adeline shrugs again, a listless raise and lower of her shoulder, “It bothers you?”

Din nods, “I feel useless.”

A snort of almost bitter laughter, “The Mand’alore is our figurehead as much as our ruler. Sometimes all you can do is sit there and look pretty.” She sneers, “When our planet was proud, the Mand’alore led our troops, and raised us. Those ways are no more.” her teeth flash at him, “Peace is boring, and distrust is a muffler.”

“I can’t promise I can raise this planet up,” Din mutters. Adeline stares at the huge doors at the other end of the hall.

“I know.”

________________

The representative from the New Republic arrives after three days of boredom and Grogu growing increasingly difficult. Din still refuses to entrust him to the Mandalorian nanny’s that offer to watch him. Din isn’t doing anything that would prohibit his kid from being there. They’ve been to the training rooms a few times, Din training himself with the spear and ignoring the Darksaber. Adeline was a good fight, pressing Din to work harder than he has in awhile. She had looked immensely impressed when he managed to win three of their five rounds. She’d clasped his arm and called him a true Mandalorian. Din can’t tell whether to be complimented or insulted that she didn’t see him as a true Mandalorian. But as everything else that had grown stale fast. Koska took up much of Adeline’s time, and Din refused to impose on the little time they got to themselves. So he welcomes the freshness brought by the new arrival. 

“Papa,” Din looks over at Grogu, he stands with the shirt given to him for the occasion tangles and twisted, and not on his body. 

“Why’d you take it off?” Din asks, taking the apparently offending article of clothing from his son. Grogu frowns.

“It’s itchy.”

Din pulls a glove off to run his bare hand over the inside of the fabric and yeah it was. The material starched and hard. Prickling unpleasantly on Din’s skin. 

“Tell you what,” Din says, slipping his glove back on and tossing the shirt towards the bed, “I won’t make you wear that one. Did they bring back the laundry?” That question was directed more towards himself as he peers around the room. He hates the amount of  _ things _ people do for him. They polish his armor and weapons, and clean the food off of Grogu’s face, and clean his room and bathroom, and of course they do the laundry. Half the time it’s not even dirty! A shirt Grogu wore for half a day that he folded messily and placed in the wardrobe had been gone the next morning. Din didn’t understand why they’d wash them so soon.

“Ah there it is.” The little cream outfit that had been given to Grogu on their first night. “Will you wear this one?”

“I could just not wear any at all!” Grogu giggles, dodging when Din grabs at him.

“Kid,” he warns, stalking around the bed slowly. Grogu grins, chubby cheeks squishing up. “Grogu. Come and get your shirt on.”

He thinks maybe Grogu will come to him, but then the shirt is jerking out of his hands and skittering across the floor towards the door that opens just enough for a shirt and a tiny child to squeeze through the crack. Din’s lunges across the bed, uncaring for his boots, his fingers brush Grogu’s arm and then he’s gone. Out the door and down the hall after the shirt laughter trailing him.

“Shit! Dank ferrick! Grogu!” Din scrambles clusimly after his kid leaving the door to his room wide open. The hallway is all but deserted, and Din pauses breathing heavy and trying to think where he would have gone. The throne room is the best option. Din jogs down the halls forcing himself not to look as panicked or stressed as he felt. 

As he drew nearer to the throne room he could hear conversation. Terrick was speaking in the slow slightly wobbly way of his.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Our Mand’alore would never neglect a visitor on purpose. Something must have come up.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine.” another voice Din doesn’t recognize answers. It must be the representative. Who is already here and who Din is late to meet. A small ray of sunshine though is that Grogu stands in a shadowed corner by the doors the shirt clutched to his chest. Din lets out a breath, tilting his helmet in a,  _ you’re in big trouble kid, _ look. Grogu reaches for the handle and Din shakes his head rapidly.

“Grogu,  _ no,”  _ he grabs his kid and hoists him into his arms. The door opens anyways revealing din and his half naked child to the council and the,  _ oh.  _

Sharp blue eyes zero in on Grogu the second they’re revealed. Lips part slightly and golden eyebrows crease.

“A-ah, this is our Mand’alor,” Terrick looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. His face bright red from the rage he’s trying to keep from boiling over. Din can’t say he blames him, and he’d say something, he really would but he’s find it difficult to think about anything besides the man that stands next to him. He’s bowing to Din now and it feels wrong and how can someone who looks like that, holds an odd air of regardless, bow to him?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to represent the New Republic. Thank you for allowing me to come to your planet. I hope our negotiations will be beneficial on both ends.” Luke smiles at him as he straightens, Din’s throat goes dry.

It’s Grogu who gets his stupid brain working again, he tugs Din’s cape up and over his shoulder, burying himself in it. If the little shit is cold Din’s gonna scream. He steps forward a little unsure, brain a little dumb, “Din Djarin,” his voice sounds rough and he winces, “I wish for the same thing. Welcome to Mandalore.”

Luke reaches a hand towards him and Din takes it, “it’s nice to meet you. Who’s this?” Luke pointed to Grogu who was staring at him not unlike Luke had looked at him.

“This is Grogu. My kid.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Grogu,” Luke shakes his little hand too, and Din’s knees feel weak. There is something luminous, it's the only word Din can think of, about Luke. His eyes, the blond of his hair that glints even in the dimness of the hall. Said eyes raise to look right at Din, like he’s not wearing a helmet. It sends fizzling shocks through him. He turns slightly away, cowardly in the face of such roaring emotions. Terrick steps between them.

“Would you like to see your room?” He asks. Luke looks away from Din smiling politely.

“I was actually wondering if I could have a few words with the Mand’alore.”

Terrick’s fists curl and release, curl and release. Din is tempted to promise him he won’t mess up, but he really isn’t sure so he won’t. 

“Very well. When you wish to go to your rooms they’re in the west wing.” Terrick bows slightly to Luke who returns the gesture. When Luke straightens he crosses his arms in front of himself and watches patiently as the room clears until it’s just them. As the last guard leaves and the door shuts with a final click behind them Luke turns back to him. The pleasant smile on his face has fallen a little bit. 

“Your child is force sensitive.”

Din steps back, bringing a hand up to cover Grogu’s side. Luke steps after him, his gaze a little intense now.

“I’m warning you now, if you lay a hand on my son you will not leave this room alive.” The warning is low and soft and sharp cutting through the tiny space between them and widening Luke’s eyes. 

“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to threaten you.” he falters a little, looking at Grogu, who looks right back, large green eyes larger. “Are you aware?”

Din nods, one quick jerk of his head, “I know. I’ve known since he was an infant. I don’t understand how you know.”

Luke chews at the corner of his lip, “Because I’m like him.”

“Like me?” Grogu chirps, he reaches towards Luke with a trust that worries Din. 

Luke catches his hand smiling, “Yes. I can move things without touching them. Can you do that?”

Grogu peers at Din, asking permission to relay information that Din had asked him not to. Din nods hesitantly. “I can move things! Sometimes I make things run away from papa!”

Din groans and Luke looks delighted by this information, “Is that why you don’t have a shirt on?”

Wiggling Grogu nods with all the excitement he can show, “I didn’t wanna wear one!”  
Laughing Luke gently lets go of Grogu’s hand, “when did he first start using the Force?” Luke's attention has been placed back on Din.

“He first started using his powers a few days after I found him.”

“He isn’t your biological child?”

Din shakes his head sighing a bit, “It’s a long story.”

“I would like to hear it if you don’t mind.” Luke says, “Maybe not now, but sometime.”

Din shrugged, doubting already that he’d be able to trust the man enough to tell the story of how he came to care for Grogu. “Maybe.” is all he says. Luke looks mildly disappointed but nods his understanding. 

“My rooms are also in the west wing, which I think might be the only wing,” Din says, “If you’d like I can walk you to them.”

“Oh, yes that would be nice.”

Din places Grogu on the floor and hands him his shirt, “Put it on, at least until we get back to the room.” Puffing his cheeks up Grogu takes the article of clothing and puts it on with all the grace of a child.

“Din?” he snaps his head back around to look at Luke. His name sounds odd coming from someone else's mouth. “Do the other Mandalorians know?”

“No,” Din says, “And I’m not sure how they will react if they find out.”

“I understand, as long as my secret is safe with you, then yours is safe with me.”

Din hopes it’s true. Taking Grogu’s hand when the kid had tugged at his sleeve he leaves the room, not looking back to see if Luke followed him. 

Luke’s rooms are only a few rooms down from Din’s. They look about the same as Din's, maybe a little smaller and with less gold, but the layout is the same. Luke seems pleased enough with them.

“Thank you for your time Mand’alore. Terrick told me when dinner is. Will I see you there?”

“Of course.” 

Din looks down at Grogu after Luke disappears behind the door, “He’s like you kid.”

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke to Din. He’d been looking for the Jedi for close to a year and a half. Grogu had been taken from him on the planet where they were finally supposed to meet someone who could help protect him. No one had come, and now here a Jedi is. Din sighs, his head hurts a little, throbbing at his temples. 

“Papa, I know him.” Grogu says as they sit on the bed together, Din mending the hole he’d discovered in Grogu’s shirt. He pauses, needle buried under the white fabric.

“You know him? How Grogu?”

Kicking his feet, now free of slippers, Grogu points at his eyes, “I sawed him.”

The shirt now rests abandoned on Din’s knees, “You saw him? When?”

“With the others! I didn’t say hello though.”

“Oh, well.” Din isn’t sure what to say. He has no understanding of anything to do with the way Grogu’s powers work. He doesn’t know why the rock Ashoka had told him to set Grogu on was so important, or why Din couldn’t get through the barrier separating him from his child. He picks back up the shirt and finishes the mindless task.

Dinner is awkward as it was the first night, Luke sits between Terrick and Adeline. He glances up the table towards Din and Grogu, one of which isn’t eating at all and the other that is demolishing the quash like bake they had that night. Din doesn’t try to make conversation, having little to no idea of what to talk about. Luke tried a few times, engaging in short stilted conversation with the others around the table before resigning himself to a silent meal. As the meal winds down however Luke sets his utensils down and looks at Din. Bo-Katan groans, putting her own fork down with a loud clunk. 

“He doesn’t take his helmet off if you were wondering why he isn’t eating,” She snaps. Luke’s head swivels between them.

“You don’t?”

Great, Din thinks, just perfect. Amazing. Grogu has even stopped making a mess to look up at him. Din wipes the smeared orange paste off of his face before someone else does. 

“No,” He says gruffly, “I don’t.”

Luke looks like he wants to say more when Adeline speaks up.

“Tomorrow before we begin out sessions perhaps you would appreciate a tour of the city?”

“Ah!” Luke grabs onto the change of topic steadfastly, “Yes I would very much enjoy that.”

The conversation revolves around that for the rest of the meal, and when Grogu falls asleep against Din’s chest he declines a guards offer to take him back to the room and goes himself. 

Din wakes in the middle of the night. Laying in bed his limbs feeling heavy against the silk sheets. Something feels wrong. Grogu is still fast asleep when Din reaches across the bed, gently patting his head. Sleep is all but gone from him, and he sits up, slipping his helmet off, rubbing at his matted hair. He notices it then. The silence that usually permeates the room is gone, replaced by the howling of wind and the thrash of sand against the walls and windows. Restless as the shifting winds outside Din slips out of bed, carrying his helmet with him. The tiles freeze his feet and the air in the hall as he steps into it is so cold it sends goose flesh crawling up his arms and neck.

Everything looks different in the night shadowed halls. His steps echo down the stone laden floors and he feels a little delirious with how naked without his armor he feels. Skin starkly aware of the air and the stone beneath and around it. Din hasn't been around the palace too much, going from the throne room to the dining hall and to his room and back again. The doors he slips open and through lead him to a more isolated area. A small indoor garden full of wilting planets, clearly not well taken care off. The wind is louder now, rattling the glass of the windows that encompass the room. Din can barely see out past the wave of sand being pushed up savagely by the wind. But the moon is still out above the dust. The sky is still clear, and when there’s a break in the storm moonlight filters down into the garden to cast dark shadows from hanging leaves. 

“Oh,” Din spins around, his hand going to the knife tucked in his wait band. Luke holds his hands up in surrender. Din hesitates before lowering the knife.

“What are you doing up?” his voice is more of a croak. Luke closes the door softly moving further into the room.

“The storm woke me. It’s been awhile since I’ve experienced one. It’s a little nostalgic.”

They watch each other as Luke inches around Din settling on a bench. He’s barefoot too, Din notices, and his clothes are loose and thin, a light cream much like Grogu’s. He radiates an odd sort of light that catches the moon beams filtering in on and off.

“This is a lovely spot,” Luke says looking a little abashed and starting to rise again, “I don’t want to take it from you. I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s okay,” Din says, perhaps more urgently then entirely appropriate. “I don’t mind.”

Luke settles once again on the bench, pulling the sleeves off his tunic over his hands and resting them on cold stone. Din puts the knife away, and hovers in an awkward air before Luke pats the empty bench next to him. Taking up his offer, Din sits, rigid, and together they watch the glass tremble. Din counts the time between each flash of moonlight before he catches himself watching Luke more. The brief flashes of light highlight the gold of his hair, and catch the dips in his face.

“ I did not think that Mandalore would ever rise again,” Luke says, breathing the wind torn silence around them.

“Me neither,” Din murmurs. He leans against the wall, and closes his eyes behind his visor. 

“The stories I heard of you were amazing,” Luke goes on. “I was intimidated,” there’s laughter in his voice and Din turns his head to look at him.

“You are no longer intimidated?” Din asks.Luke looks straight at him again, a smiling quivering his lips.

“Before I came you were a hulking terrifying killer. A man who killed without mercy and slew a man with his own weapon to become king.” Lukes’ eyes flutter, eyelashes kissing each other.

“I am that.” Din says, “I have killed with no mercy, but I am no great king.”

“You feel powerful Din Djarin,” Luke whispers. Din isn’t sure what else to say. So he looks away, into the corner where a bush with wilted orange flowers is being slowly consumed by dark vines with spade shaped leaves.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he isn’t sure why he’s admitting it to a stranger, then again maybe that’s why he is. Luke makes a humming noise.

“You’ll learn. Don’t become discouraged.”

Din chuckles, “I’ve never been to this planet. A week ago was my first time stepping foot here. These,” he gestures around the room lamely, “People are not my people.”

“What do you mean? Are you not Mandalorian?”

“A Mandalorian is many things,” Din says, “Which is something I learned not too long ago. To these people, I am not as much Mandalorian as they are, and to me it is the same.”

Luke looks puzzled, picking at his sleeves, “How did you become king?”

Din full on laughs now, shoulders shaking in near delirium. His helmet makes a metallic clang as he smacks it back against the stone behind them. “It was an accident.” He stifles his laughter, ending it in a long sigh, “Dank ferrick it was an accident.”

Luke is looking at him in mild concern which Din decides is well warranted. “You became king of a planet by accident?”

“Yes.”

“...How?”

So Din tells him, speaking over the wind. Luke listens eyes wide as the tale unfolds. It feels like something has been lifted from Din. Falling to the shadow streaked floor where their bare feet rest. The truth that Terrick and Valiant have fought hard to cover, that Bo-Katan uses against him, loosens around his chest. The binding strands become lax. When he’s done and the story of himself before this all sits heavy in the air he looks over at Luke.

“I heard him.” Luke mumbles, his eyes shining with a guilt so deep it pains Din. “I heard Grogu. Through the force I heard him call. I’m so sorry.”

“We made it. That’s all that matters,” Din says. He finds no anger towards Luke, why would he?

“Perhaps if I was there to help you then you would not be here now.”

“Perhaps,” Din shrugs. Luke’s eyes move back and forth across Din’s visor like he’s trying to catch his eye. 

“You risked everything for him.” Luke murmurs. 

“Of course I did. He’s my kid.”

They don’t really speak much after that, and Din finally decides to return to his chambers when the wind dies down and his fingers and toes are numb from cold. Walking back together Din feels an oddly foreign but pleasant feeling rise in his chest. Luke made for comforting company. Company Din hopes to indulge in more. 

Luke pauses outside of his door, “Would you let me train Grogu?”

“I don’t know,” Din answers honestly. “We’re finally safe, but if he is shown using his powers then that safety could be jeopardized.”

Luke nods, “I understand.” then he’s grinning ruefully, “How bout you? Would you let me train you?”

Din suddenly becomes incredibly grateful for his helmet as his cheeks heat, “Train me?”

“With the sword,” Luke says, still grinning. Din considers before half shrugging half nodding.

“Sure. But I can’t promise an easy fight to you. Ever.”

“I wouldn’t want anything less. Goodnight Mand’alore.” And then Luke is slipping into his room, closing the door between them.

Din’s face is still burning until he falls asleep.

The city is remarkably untouched in the morning. A few sand drifts are strewn here and there and a few fixtures that had been loose have been blown away, but Din thinks it could have been a lot worse. Grogu is up early and cranky. Little mouth pouting and dark brows pulled low over his eyes. Din dresses him sliding on shit and pants. He lays out a soft pair of slippers.

“You want to put them on yourself?” he asks gently. Carefully. Grogu looks down at the shoes, mouth puckering in debate. Finally, and much to Din’s joy, he plops himself on the floor and pulls the slippers on himself. He takes Din’s hand when he offers it to him. 

“Papa,” he mumbles on their way to the dinning hall. Din had already eaten, or tried to, interrupted by Grogu’s early rising. 

“Yes Grogu?”

“Can we leave now?”

Looking down at him Din frowns. Grogu’s attention is on the floors, one hand twisting up the bottom of his tunic. 

“We can’t,” Din says frankly. When sad green eyes look up at him Din sighs, “Even if I wanted to leave kid, which I do, I have nowhere to take you. We’d become desolate.”

“I don’t know that word papa,” Grogu says. And maybe Din exaggerated. He’s sure he could find work enough to support them, and he isn’t without his friends, but he would rather not risk it. 

“It means we would be very sad and cold and very hungry,” As if on cue Grogu’s stomach rumbles, the culprit for his bad mood, he presses a hand to it. 

“I don’t like being hungry.”

“Trust me,” Din says, nodding to the guards that open the doors to the dinning room for them, “I know.”

They fall quiet as they walk to their seat, Din situating Grogu on his lap and motioning at the rest to start their meals. Luke is between Terrick and Adeline again. His hair damp and curling at the edges, he flashes a small private smile at Din and waves with a little less privacy at Grogu.

“Mand’alore, will you be joining us for our tour of the city?” Mirr asks, she hasn’t grown any fonder of his foundling. Her eyes never leaving him as if she expects him to single handedly destroy the entire Mandalorian civilization.

“Yes,” Din says, Grogu drops one of the boiled eggs he’d been chewing on and Din holds in a shudder and the slimy thing lands on the unprotected part of his inner thigh. “Um,” he reaches for a napkin, Luke is laughing behind his hand, “I was planning on coming along.”

“Sorry papa, I didn’t mean to drop it,” Grogu says. He reaches across the table himself trying to reach a napkin on the other side of the plate. He gets one little knee onto the table landing it on the side of the plate and flipping it back onto Din’s breastplate. Terrick makes a wounded noise, his hands shaking as he covers his mouth. Luke’s laughter can hardly be contained anymore. 

Din’s front is smeared in the heavily citrusy sauce that was paired with the eggs. It streaks pink and orange across gold. He lifts Grogu off of the table, the plate’s contents hadn’t completely missed him. Holding him under the armpits and way from his own filthy armor Din looks a little helplessly around the table. Terrick has got to be near tears at this point, and Bo-Katan has leveled him with a nasty glare. No help will come from them anytime soon.

“Here, Din let me have him,” It’s Luke who comes to the rescue, scooting his chair out and coming around the table. Din relinquishes his hold on Grogu, allowing Luke to take him. Din cleans the sauce and egg off of himself with the napkins he can now reach. He doesn’t look back up, not yet, takes unneeded care to make sure the armor is glistening once again. Luke talks to Grogu as he cleans him up, and Din focuses on the less judgmental aura radiating from him. 

“Well,” Adeline says, and finally Din looks up, “That was interesting.”

Grogu is deposited back into Din’s lap and Luke lays a brief hand on Din’s shoulder, before retreating back into his own seat. 

“You have to forgive that,” Terrick wheezes, “Normally we are not so graceless.”

Luke waves him away, “No worries. He’s a child. He meant no harm.”

“A child that shouldn’t be sitting at this table,” Mirr mumbles. 

Din lets out a silent sigh, and exhales of hair under his helmet. Grogu glares a little bit at the rest of the table, head tilted in a near perfect imitation of Din’s own masked glares. Mirr meets his glare head on, pale features contorting into a disturbing display. Din holds up a hand, pulls Grogu against his chest.

“I have not requested anything but this from you. My son to sit at the table with me, to eat in my place. Luke is right it was an accident, one that any of us could have made and now it is cleaned up.” The other Mandalorian bow their heads, looking at least a little humbled. “Now,” he tries to force his voice to sound strong. “If you are all done with your meal, we have a guest to show around.”

Luke ducks his head, smiling down at his plate. Valiant stands first, stalking towards the door and leaving his half eaten plate to be cleared away by the servers. Luke follows wiping his mouth and placing the napkin on the plate. He waits for Din to stand and place Grogu on the floor, then they walk to the door together.

Perla takes lead once outside of the palace. Bo-Katan had mumbled something about weapons and hurried away. Leaving Din, Luke, Grogu and Perla alone. Adeline had declined coming along, slipping on her helmet and taking flight before Din could ask her to come. As long as he isn’t expected to lead then Din is fine.

The city is bigger than Din thought it was, but as Perla explains, many of the domed buildings in the dusty distance are abandoned and burned out. The city was surrounded on all sides by death. The palace and surrounding small town like a beating heart in a massive decaying body. Din has a hard time finding it beautiful. The town is ripe with the smells of Mandalorian food, sizzling and popping. Perla stops at a booth and speaks rapid fire Mando’a to the vendor before she hands him a long piece of red meat. She gives it to Luke, who bows once to her and once to the vendor. 

“This is a favorite snack here on Mandalore. It was one of the first things we tried to bring back and now almost everyone can sell it.”

“Thank you,” Luke says and tears it in half handing a piece to Grogu who takes it with wide eager eyes. “Oh, it’s very spicy.” Luke mumbles after taking his first bit placing a hand over his mouth. He turns to din, “Will it be okay for Grogu?”

It doesn’t matter at this point as the snack has already been shoved into Grogu’s mouth and he chews quite pleased with himself. 

“I guess not.” 

Luke hands the rest of the meat to Grogu when Perla’s back is turned and the vendor is gone from view. 

“This,”Perla gestures to a tall white building, “Was our library. Now though, it is empty. All of our written history has been lost.”

Luke approaches the building with a quiet type of reverence, placing a hand on the wall. “Can we go in?”

Perla hesitates, glancing around the street, “Yes. I suppose. The Mand’allor is with us.” Din isn’t sure what he has to do with the decision to go in or not but he goes along with it. Perla pulls a chain out of her armor. A few large keys are connected to the end, she chooses one with an ivory top, inserting it into the rusted lock on the door. Stepping through the entrance way is an experience. It’s like stepping from noon day to dusk. The building is hardly a building anymore, the roof and walls partly collapsed. Sunlight filters darkly through the dust that swirls under Luke’s feet as he walks further into the building. He steps lightly, around imprints of books molded into the mosaic floors. Din steps after him, hand tightly wound around Grogu’s nudging him gently away from the dangers hidden from small eyes.

“It’s very sad,” Luke murmurs, he crouches to pick up a stack of old, blackened paper. It crumbles in his fingers as delicate as his grip may be. 

“Yes,” Perla agrees. She hasn’t moved from the door, looking out at the desolation like it’s a child she lost. Din turns away. 

“The galaxy,” Din begins, his throat tight and his chest squeezing, afraid that the comfort he’s trying to give will fall flat and fake at the feet of this woman. “Has tried to erase The Mandalorian. That is something you and I share without discrimination.”

Perla is studying him when he dares to look at her again, “Perhaps it is by this tragedy we will find brotherhood again.”

Din’s nod is jerky, and he’s thankful for the tugging on his hand demanding his attention. 

“Perla,” Luke calls, he’s standing on a large chunk of concrete, peering down at the floor, “Who is depicted in this?”

“Ah,” she moves now, picking her way across the floor and climbing up the rock with Luke. “That is Te Sol’yc Mand’alor, or Mandalore the First in basic. He conquered the planet and exterminated the Mythosaures.”

Din settles close to them, letting grogu sit on the floor and play with the rocks around him, praying silently that he won’t lift the rocks in Perla’s presence. Luke listens to Perla much like he had the night before to Din. Hw listens like what Perla has to say holds all the secrets to the galaxy. He’s startlingly pretty, his mind thinks unbidden. He’d been stunned by the man’s beauty the first day he saw him, but hadn’t let himself think it so forwardly. Letting himself do it now is strange, and he turns away, focusing on the more real story Perla is telling them

She speaks with a kind of pride about the Mand’alore of old that Din feels even more a fake. His golden armor, his dark sword, the title he shouldn’t have. The men and women she speaks about are strong and proud and knew who they were, everything Din just isn’t. But his heart breaks for Perla, and for the children growing up on this planet. Families struggling amid the ruin. He grows determined then to help these people to stand as at least a symbol as Adeline had said. Maybe he could even duel Bo-Katan and lose, give these people a fighting chance.

“Come now,” Perlas is stepping down from the rock, Luke following her, “There is much more to see.”

_______________________

They find each other again that night. In the same garden sitting on the same cold bench. There is no storm to fill the silence between them and Din finds himself aching for one. Luke looks a little tired tonight, hair mussed on one side and his eyes unfocused as he stares out the window. Din would say something, but he’s never been good at that. Unsure of how to address the atmosphere. The lack of armor save for the helmet is more than friendly to Din, his soft spots are open and his feet are bare, the skin is displayed for Luke to look at. 

“You know this planet is a miracle,” Luke whispers into the room, like he’s afraid speaking loud will shatter something. Din hums in agreement. The planet is a miracle, the people who raised it from ashes just as miraculous. Luke turns to look at him. The silence grows thick again, Din doesn’t know what he was supposed to say. Luke seems expectant though and Din can’t tell who he’s expecting, Din or the Mand’alore. 

“Want to spar?” Is what falls out of his mouth when he finally opens it. Luke blinks, twice, his mouth parting much like it had on that first day. Din wonders briefly if his lips are as soft as they look. 

“I don’t have my weapon,” Luke says, but his eyes are clearer, an eager glint in them. Din shrugs.

“No weapons then. Hand to hand.”

Standing across from Luke in the dark training room, Din’s skin hums in excitement. He settles into position, and Luke does the same. He falls into the stance with a well trained ease, smirking across the mat at Din. 

“Ready?” Din asks and Luke nods. He can’t remember who moves first. Luke is fast, almost unnaturally, moving like he’s walking on air. He’s on Din, ducking beneath his arm and aiming for a hit for the soft areas around his chest and stomach. Din pivot's away barely in time, feeling Luke’s fist graze his shirt. Luke whirls around to stare at him, eyes wide a smile ticking at his lips.

“You promised me a good fight Mandalorian.” He says. 

“I did,” Din says lowly. They step into it again, glancing blows off each other. Din’s shirt is soaked in sweat and it pebbles across Luke’s forehead, matting his hair into wet sand strands across his forehead. Din finally gets the upper hand, feigning to the the left and sweeping Luke’s legs out from under him. Hitting the mat hard Luke lays there panting. Wiping his hair out of his face.

“Well,” he swallows and looks over at Din when he sits heavily beside him, “That was a  _ fight. _ Thank you. I think I needed that.” he groans and sits up.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Din asks, his chest is still heaving and his own hair sits in a gross mess on his forehead. Luke sends him a reassuring smile shaking his head.

“No not at all. Tell me though Din, are you sure you don’t also have the force?”

Din tilts his head, “Of course I don’t.”

Luke still looks a little puzzled, staring at him like he’s seeing him in a new light. “I usually can take down an opponent a few minutes into a fight, because I have an advantage with the force. I can, in a way, predict their movements to avoid hits. But you did the same to me, almost like you could sense it.”

Leaning back on his hands, Din looks up at the high domes ceiling, painted with abstract art he doesn’t understand. “Instincts.”

“Din, there should have been no way you could have predicted what I was pulling with just instincts.” Luke says, he lays back to look at the ceiling too. His shirt riding up just enough to give Din a delicious glance at his stomach. The white scars tracing over the heaving Skin have Din peering closer. Climbing like spiderwebs, just as thin, up into Luke's shirt. His arms, now that Din has noticed them, are also laced with the same scars. The desire to trace them becomes concerning and Din has to back up to the, while absurd, safe topic of Luke and Grogu’s powers.

“I think I’d be aware if I had the same powers as Grogu.”

Luke nods reluctantly, “Well then your instincts are scarily good.”

“Have to be or I’d be dead.”

“You moved like you’ve been trained for many years by a great master,” Luke says.

Din chuckles shaking his head, “No. I’ve learned many things from many places. I learned to fight with a knife from my brothers, I learned to forge armor from the armorer. I learned to shoot a blaster from my sisters. The Tuskens taught me to see without my eyes. To listen to my surroundings. I’ve learned from the galaxy.” he shrugs. The list is extensive. So many people had taught him so many things, even when the skills he’s picked up and filed away were all born from him making stupid mistakes. “The only thing I wish I did have a great master for was how to change an infant, or how to make them stop crying.” All he had for that was his own stumbling bumbling attempts, Peli’s shaky knowledge and Quin’s patience. 

Luke laughs, loud, sending it bouncing off the walls, and around the dome. “You managed though. You have a very happy healthy little boy.”

Din sighs, content thinking about Grogu, “I didn’t think I’d make it. That kid has some lungs on him.”

He isn’t expecting the touch against his shoulder. It burns in an odd sort of way, sending sharp spots of sensation up and down his body. It registers outside of his raging veins as a flinch.

“Sorry,” Luke says, his voice hushed but still carrying in the empty room. “I don’t know why I did that.” he turns away from Din, curling up and resting his chin on his knees.

“It’s okay,” Din mutters slowly, because it is.

“I just remembered something my old master told me, and for a little bit you almost didn’t seem too real.”

Din opens his mouth. Closes it. Again and again. “ Thank you?”

Luke laughs again, a bit of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. He turns to look at Din, head still on his knees. 

“You’re welcome. It was a complement.”

The silence they drift into is comfortable, undisturbed until Luke shivers, exhaustion ringed under his eyes. Din stands a bit shaky, legs numb from sitting too long. He holds out a hand and Luke takes it with his black clad hand letting Din pull him up. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Luke asks, breath fogging in the air. The shock of cold after stepping out of the training rooms had been enough to spur them into a fast pace back towards the palace.

“Sitting on a throne,” Din mutters.

“Oh,” Luke bites the corner of his lip, “I was wondering if you would allow me to spend some time with Grogu? Not to teach him about the force, just to give him a little something to do and to get to know him.”

“I wouldn’t mind you teaching him about his magic, just as long as you’re careful.” Din says. He’d been thinking about it for a while. Grogu needs an outlet and a Jedi had all but fallen on them. He can’t deny his son the thing they spent a year and a half looking for.

“Are you saying yes because you truly feel comfortable with me, or because you don’t want him to drop any more eggs on you?”

Din holds open the side door they had slipped through open for Luke, “Yes.”

The resulting laughter is a little too loud for the sleeping palace, Luke’s eyes go wide and he presses a hand to his mouth. Din waves him down, smiling behind his helmet. 

“It’s okay,” Din says, even as his own voice is hushed. They’re passing the throne room now, Din looking straight ahead marching it without so much as a glance at the torch lit throne. Luke makes a soft noise at his side and Din turns his head to acknowledge him.

“You hate it don’t you?”

Din sighs, “I can’t be that obvious.”

Luke laughs, it’s quiet this time, “You are, but I can also feel your emotions a little bit. They sway like the sea when you start to think too hard about it.”

Din pauses, peering at the Jedi, “You can feel what I feel?”

Luke waves his hands around in a placating manner, “Ah, not like you think. Just at times I can feel it if you’re feeling something very strong. I didn’t mean to intrude. I probably should have either told or asked you.” Luke winces, dropping his eyes to the floor. 

Din starts walking again, his bare feet barely making a sound along the corridor. He hears Luke start to follow with a little hesitancy in his step.

“I would prefer if you didn’t,” Din says, “As of late, my thoughts and feelings have seemed to be the only thing truly mine anymore. Please leave them be.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

The silence between them is now stifling. Luke won’t look in his direction when Din chances a glance over at him. Luke had said he could only feel what Din was if he was feeling very strongly. The last couple of days had been a turbulent, as Luke had put it,  _ sea _ of emotion for Din. Had he been an open book, spilling everything he was feeling into Luke's lap? Letting the Jedi know about his fear and anger and the odd twirling his chest had grown in his chest around him. He shudders at the thought, cheeks heating a little in embarrassment under helmet. So he keeps the silence and tries not to feel, tries not to let the running dialogue going in his head spill out. Luke’s door creaks as he opens it. They both flinch at the noise, Luke looks up, regret and guilt swirling in his eyes. Opening his mouth Luke steps a little closer before seeming to change his mind and ducking into the room with little fanfare. The door between them feels so final that Din steps away from it. 

Climbing into bed and gently rearranging Grogu who had splayed across the bed while Din was gone, he makes up his mind. He won’t let this come between them. The relationship that Din has managed to build with Luke means too much for him to let it crumble to the ground from this one thing. He knows that the force is odd. He knows that Grogu has done things that Din has thought unnatural. But he also knows from talking with Ahsoka and Luke that it also comes so naturally to them that they use it almost always. Luke constantly is aware of the room around him. By sight and sound and the force. Making him a dangerous and difficult opponent. It allows him not only to spar masterfully, but also to read the room and negotiate unlike anyone Din had ever met. He’d been unnerved for sure and embarrassed that Luke might know more about him then he previously thought, but he doesn’t care, and if he could go back, he wouldn’t have let Luke go into that room without reassuring him before that they’re fine. Rolling over Din determines to fix it in the morning. He slips his helmet off after a second of hesitation. 

The brilliant solution he came up with involved him using the man who was set in charge of doing the things Din wouldn’t let him. He’d startled when Din requested his help.

“Oh course Mand’alore! Anything!”

“Uh huh, good,” Din mutters, he’s dressing Grogu again after the kid had become displeased with the clothing he’s pulled out himself. Din didn’t have the time to make him redress himself. The man, whose name had evaded him, is still rambling on as Din kneels on the floor and turns his son to look at him. “You’re not going to have to sit with me today.” he says. Grogu’s green eyes widen.

“Why not papa?”

“Because you don’t like it do you?” The rapid nodding confirms what Din had already known. “Okay, well I’m going to let you spend the day with Luke. You just have to promise to not give him too much trouble.” Grogu is bouncing on his toes, which isn’t helping Din who is trying to put them into slippers.

“I promise papa!”

“Alright,” Din says, finally getting the last shoe on, “I expect you to keep that promise.” he turns to the man, “Could you escort Grogu to Luke for me please? I’d do it myself but I’m running a little late.”

Looking a little put off by the simple request the man reaches for Grogu’s hand. He takes it without complaint and Din feels a little bad for making the kid sit with him so much especially since he’s so eager to get away from it now. 

“Papa,” Grogu says, reaching a grabbing hand up. Din lowers himself enough for Grogu to press a sloppy kiss to the cheek of his helmet. “Okay! Bye papa!” 

He watches Grogu drag the man out of the room and hopes that Luke understands his peace offering, that he sees that he hadn’t broken Din’s trust.

“Mand’alore,” one of the guards says, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Din answers. He follows them out of his room and to the throne room ignoring how desperately he wants to be anywhere else. The council had already gathered in the throne room when Din entered, bowing his head slightly to the members of the planet Ryloth that had come to talk about trade. Trade Din doesn’t think Mandalore has yet. The fields and orchards and gardens that used to grow in the large expanses of flat land in the sunlit curves of domed roofs are gone. The forgeries are barely beginning to have flame again and Beskar is so rare that Din’s armor had been locked away for safekeeping. The planet was bare, dead, any product of value would have to be kept close if they were to survive. That was how it had to be. 

“Surely you can’t let this happen!” Valiant shouts, he’s standing at the long table in the throne room, fists planted firmly on the table staring across at a stern looking Twi'lek. He’s addressing Din though, who sits a little lost to the conversation at the head of the table. Pale blue eyes look to Din as well, the Twi’lek sneering. Sharp teeth catching his lip. Adeline growls low under her breath at Din’s right.

“Piece of bantha fodder,” she huffs.

“It is up to our Mand’alore,” Mirr reminds. She’s staring down at the table and Din feels the stress falling off of the Mandalorians seated around. The trade request is near blackmail, keeping Mandalore bent in low submission to a planet systems away. 

“Your Mand'alore will not even allow the guest to see his eyes. Is he a  _ hut’unn?”  _ The word rolls sickly sweet off of the Twi’lek’s tongue. It lands heavy in the air. It’s silent for a split second before blasters are drawn and an uproar goes up. Adeline is shouting back at the Twi’lek dagger drawn. Valiant is grabbing for the other Twi’lek, throwing himself over the table and wrapping his hands around the fine silk of the man’s tunic. Mirr stands as well, muttering things in sharp Mando’a. The insult stung. To be called a  _ hut’unn _ , a coward, was the worst thing a Mandalorian could be called by a stranger or brethren. He stands, slamming a heavy hand down on the table and silencing the room. 

“I will not let you insult me on my own planet.” Din says, low and steady. “ I will not let you strip this planet to feed your own pockets. If you cannot come to a compromise that will benefit the both of us, then you can leave. We have no room here for men such as yourself.” Din looks around at the other Mandalorians, “all of you sit down. The insult was for me not for you. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Bo-Katan rolls her eyes sitting down heavily, tugging Koska’s arm. Valiant glares but lets go of the other man’s shirt. He smooths a hand down the wrinkles. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking away from the other Twi’lek and to Din. Waving them away Din sinks back into his chair, feeling a little light headed and shaky. 

“Now,” he says, “Can we continue?”

Terrik looks almost as shaken as Din feels, reaching shaking hands to organize the stack of papers in front of him. 

“As we’ve said lord Byt, the trade agreement you have presented to us will not work. Not yet at least. We are still allies, but at the moment at this no trade can come from us.”

“Then why am I here?” Lord Byt hisses. His fingers clenching on the table. 

“You’re here to create a bridge” Din snaps right back. “Ryloth and Mandalore were strong allies with each other. We don’t want that allegiance to break, but at the moment a promise of that allegiance is all that we can offer you. If you will not take it then don’t.”

“Who are you to rule this planet?” Byt sneers, “who are you to make such decisions?”

“I am Mand’alore,” Din says with finality. “I won the darksaber in combat, and until someone bests me for it then I am the ruler of Mandalore.”

“You are a substitute at best. Your people do not trust you. If they did then this dispute would not have happened.”

Din knows it’s true. The mandalorians do not see him as the Mandalore. They see him as a stranger sitting on the throne faceless and graceless. He takes a breath.

“I am Mand’alore, and I will tell you once again; take our offer of allegiance or leave it. We can offer nothing more but will offer nothing less.”

Byt scowled, turning to talk quietly with his companion. After a few tense minutes of hushed debate he turned back to Din. He licks over his pointed teeth and looks at Din’s shoulder rather than his visor.

“Very well. We will allow this bride as you say, to remain. But one day Mandalore is going to have to give something back to us.”

Din nods, relief coursing through him, rendering him slightly breathless and nausea all at the same time. “I understand.”

“And don’t expect us to help you rebuild this planet.”

“Of course.” Din says. He looks around at his council. Terrick looks satisfied and maybe a little bit proud. Perla smiles lightly, and Din is satisfied as well. Leaning back against his chair he calls for the next order of business to be conducted. 

It’s late when he finally returns to his rooms. Dinner had been kept in the throne room for him and the council, so he hadn’t gotten to see Grogu or Luke, and really the only thing on his mind as he hurried towards his rooms was a meal and a hot shower. The armor had become as unbearable as the conversation after a while and he was ready to strip himself of it. He’d asked about Luke after the third meeting, wondering why he had yet to join them, afraid that he had caused the Jedi’s absence. Adeline had told him Terrick had asked him to abstain from joining the meetings in case Ryloth had not taken too nicely to a member of the New Republic being there. Din supposed it was a blessing, Luke wouldn’t have to worry about bringing Grogu with him, which Din had started to feel bad about the more he thought about it.

His room is not empty when he steps in and collapses back against the door just to take the weight off. Letting out a long groan he doesn’t notice the two people in his room until Luke is laughing softly.

“That bad huh?”

Din straightens, stretches and slumps towards the bathroom where he’d left his sleep clothes on the counter the morning before.

“That bad,” he responds as he passes. Grogu is asleep, little cheeks smudged in dirt. Din pauses to wipe it away.

“He fell asleep before I could bathe him.” Luke says. He’s spread a little leisurely across Din’s bed, white robes falling open across his chest and eyes dark with exhaustion. Din has the sudden urge to brush back the blond bangs that fall in messy parade across Luke’s forehead. He clenches his fist against the thought and turns back to his original path, closing the bathroom door between them. 

Taking off the armor and stepping into the shower felt like shedding a layer of heavy dirty skin. The temperature of the water was far hotter then it should have been leaving Din’s skin a ruddy pink. Closing his eyes and running fingers through the greasy strands of hair Din lets out a sigh. Long and unabashed without judgement to make him press his lips together and pray his chest wasn’t heaving too heavily. It did heave now, breaths becoming fast and rapid, hands trembling and head swirling. Din pants, presses his back desperately against the cool tile of the shower. It heats up too fast, from his body heat and he slides to the floor searching for relief wherever he could find it. Burying his head in his hands, and letting water pour hot and prickling across his skin. It’s becoming increasingly hard to breath, and he shudders against the feeling.

When the shower starts to run cold, Din uncurls.Breathing finally slowed, and trembling now all because of the cold he finds the strength to pull himself up and use the soft scented soaps that line the tiny shelves in the shower. If he wasn’t bone tired before, he is now. The panic that had cut hard and heavy through his body had cleaned everything else out of his system. Stepping out of the shower on wobbling legs Din peers into the mirror, flinching a little at his untamed beard. Running his fingers through it he digs under the sink looking for something to trim it with and upon coming up empty he gets dressed and leaves the bathroom. 

He freezes when he steps out, helmet in his hand. Luke is still there. Curled on his side asleep. Grogu had migrated across the bed to curl against his shoulders. Din feels his chest jump a little at the sight, crossing the room silently to the covered tray that had been placed on the little table right side the door. The helmet stays tucked beneath his arm as jarring as it feels. Din puts his back to the bed unwrapping the tray. It releases warm scents into the room, savory and earthy. Din eats and listens to be sure neither Jedi nor child wake. He’s pleased that despite the panic he had just undergone and the fatigue hanging over him, that the food finally tastes like something other than dust. 

It’s after he’s finished the meal and turned out the lights around the room that a new problem arises. The bed is taken, leaving only a little of one side unoccupied. Din would have to squeeze onto the mattress in order to fit. He stands and stares at the bed stupidly. He could easily sleep on the floor. He’s slept in much worse places, more uncomfortable, but for some reason he crawls into the bed, scooping Grogu onto his chest and pressing his shoulder to Luke’s back. He’ll worry about it in the morning he thinks.

Grogu is up first, much like those early days when Din would only get a few precious hours of sleep before his infant would wake up wailing. Din would try everything he could, rocking, burping, feeding, changing. Normally he’d flop in defeat on the bed and sing a slurred song in Mando’a where half the words were missing. It did the trick though and Grogu would if not sleep quiet enough that Din could. As he got older he slept more and through the night but mornings were no longer Din’s time. Grogu seems to have re awoken this habit.

“Papa,” he’s on Din’s chest, eyes bright and cheeks still dirty. Din groans, tossing a hand over his face. Small fingers pry at his hand, “Papa, nooooo. Wake upppp!”

“Why?” Din croaks. As far as he's aware he doesn't have to do anything today. Terrick telling him to take a day from the throne room and to ‘please entertain the representative from the New Republic.’ Din’s eyes fly open, looking over at the other side of the bed. Luke is still curled up asleep, face soft. “Dank ferrick.” Din breaths. Grogu giggles.

“Dank ferrick,”Grogu says, cheeky smiles and shining eyes. 

“No. That’s not something you should say,” Din groans, rubbing at his neck. Grogu jumps up, bouncing on the bed and jostling Din and Luke. It rouses the Jedi, he blinks at the bright room, and the red silk sheets confusion written across his face. Din sits up, capturing Grogu in his arms and pulling him to his chest. Luke’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open. Scrambling up he looks around the room frantically.

“Oh my force, I am so sorry.” Luke says breathless. The blankets are clutched in his fist held up to his chest as if he were indecent. 

“Good morning!” Grogu chirps, reaching a hand over to Luke. 

Luke’s face wavers, a small smile curling his lips as he focused on the kid instead of Din, “Good morning Grogu. I wasn't sure I’d see you again this morning.”

Din snorts, scooting out of bed pulling his kid with him, “Come on, let's get you bathed you dirty little womp rat.”

He’s almost to the bathroom when Luke calls to him, “Din, is, um, I’m sorry.”

Din waves him away, “It’s alright. I could have woken you up but I was too tired and you looked comfortable.”

“It was still intruding on your privacy.” Luke argue’s. He’s let go of the blanket now fixing his robes where they were still folded open. Din hadn’t noticed the white fissure like scars tracing across Luke's skin the night before. They look like cracks, a stark white against his skin. There were so many of them. More than Din could count and disappear into the depths of Luke’s tunic. He tears his eyes away when Grogu wiggles in his arms.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mind.” he doesn’t let Luke answer, sitting Grogu on the counter and searching for a cloth. He’s wetting it when Luke appears in the door.

“I’m going to go now.” Luke hedges, his voice still sounds strained and Din wonders if it was really that bad waking up in his bed.

Din nods, wiping the dirt from Grogu’s face, “Alright. Thank you for watching him yesterday. I hope he behaved.”

Luke chuckles, “He did. Didn’t give me an ounce of trouble.”

Din clicks his tongue and pinches Grogu’s cheek lightly, “Why does everyone get special treatment huh?”

Grogu giggles, batting at his hand, “ we went looking for frogs!”

Din glances over at Luke, “Really?”

“Ah yes. I saw one in the wreckage of the library, figured it’d be something fun we could do.”

“Well did you have fun?” Grogu’s face is clean. And Din lets him down from the counter. “We’ll give you a proper bath tonight.” Din murmurs combing his fingers through dark curls.

“I did have fun! I found,” Grogu contemplates, looking down at his fingers as he counted out on his fingers how many frogs they had found. He holds up five proudly, “I found three papa!”

“That’s two fingers down, Grogu,” Luke says. He reaches and presses two of Grogu's fingers down. “There you go!”

Din is smiling under his helmet, “Is that all you did?” A knock at the door signal’s that Din’s breakfast is here. He crosses to the door and allows the guard to step in. Her eyes widen before dropping upon seeing Luke looking sleep soft and disheveled. 

“Nope!” Grogu pops the P at the end of the word, “ Luke teached me to write my name.”

“Let me see,” Din requests. The guard leaves and Luke stays, sitting back on the bed. There’s a stack of rough paper on the vanity along with a writing instrument. Din picks up both and hands them to Grogu. He kneels on the floor adjusting the large instrument in his tiny grip. He leans far over the paper, little tongue stuck out in concentration. Din watches as he shakily writes out his name in Basic.

“I was going to attempt to teach him in Mando’a,” Luke says. “But I’m not well enough versed in it to do that.”

“No, this is fine,” Din says. He takes the offered piece of paper when Grogu is finished, beaming proudly. Din traces over the word, shaky and messy. He’s so proud. He hugs Grogu, careful not to crinkle the paper. “Good job kid.”

He keeps the paper, carefully placed with his pauldron in the top drawer of this wardrobe. Luke finally does go, taking Grogu with him, letting Din have the privacy for his meal. He eats quickly and then leaves his room, leaving the blood red cape behind. Freeing himself of some of the responsibility it brings. He still stops by the throne room to ensure that no one is in need of the Mand’alore. Terrick waves him away. The representatives from Ryloth had left the night before and now the court was quiet, with only a few quiet conversations going on. Din leaves when he isn’t needed, unwilling to be roped into any of the discussions. He instead finds a quiet hallway close to the indoor garden and pulls out his com. He hasn’t contacted anyone in a few months, and he figures he might as well update them, see how Boba’s doing on tatooine. Din ends up staring at the com link in his palm until he presses it back into his pocket. He doesn’t want the people he cares about to see him in gold armor.

He hunts down Luke and Grogu next. Finding them sitting in a clearing right outside of Luke’s room. Blue butterflies flit about landing on the strangely green grass that they sit on. Din knocks on the door leading out into the little piece of heaven before entering. Luke smiles when he sees him, motioning him over. Din sits with his legs crossed under him by Luke. With a mischievous little smile Luke plops a circlet of flowers onto Din’s head, letting it slip down to rest on the brow of his visor. He touches gentle fingers to it. Grogu is wearing something similar to it, bright yellow flowers make up his instead of the blue of Din’s.

“Where did you find flowers?” Din asks, Luke’s smile falters a little and he glances around at the green and blues. 

“We uh, we made it.” he flicks his hand in the direction of Grogu. Din’s eyes widen and he slips off a glove to feel the grass beneath him. It doesn’t feel quite real, he realizes. To wispy and soft slipping through his fingers like hair.

“How?”

Luke takes a breath, leaning back on his hands. He’s still in those white robes glowing in the sun. “Grogu showed me this place. He said it was one of the places he saw you the most happy. Asked me if we could make it. The how is a little bit harder.” Din tilts his helmet and Luke bites at his lips, “Um, oh, here. Give me your hand.” Din lays his bare hand in Luke’s palm, ignoring the cold metal as Luke lays his prosthetic over it, he looks over to Grogu who’s watching them intrigued. “Now,” Luke says, “Think of something, preferable something connected deeply to yourself that can be created, and picture it in your mind.”

For some reason food comes to Din’s mind. Something he’s struggled with for a long time, struggling to find time to eat and struggling to ignore the temptation of wonderful smelling vendors on the planets he’s visited. The sharp scents of spices, the thick caramel of burnt sugar wrapped around paper tubes and handed to small children. The robust smell of charred meat popping on spigots. Broiled bread draped with cheese, melting and rich. Din exhales shakily and Luke’s fingers twitch in his.

“I don’t,” Din pauses to lick his lips, “I don’t want you to make food. It’s cruel.” his mind is cruel in what it chooses to think about. Luke’s fingers trace soft patterns into his palm. Tracing his life lines up to the veins in his wrists. 

“Din,” Luke whispers, and suddenly the images of food are replaced with golden hair and blue eyes, soft skin and quiet nights spent together. Din wretches his hand out of Luke’s like he’d burned him. Eyes snapping open. Luke is holding his hands up away from Din and towards his own chest. 

“Um, I think this is nice enough for me too.” Din says a little weakly, touching the flowers on his head again. Luke nods, eyes trained on the ground tracing over the grass. “Luke,” he hasn’t said the others' name much, and it gets his eyes to jump from grass to visor. He wishes, for the first time in a long while that Luke could see the smile of reassurance that he was trying to give him. “It’s alright. I promise.”

Luke does smile and Din can see it, a warmth and a gently understanding that should not be given to him. “Are you hungry Din?”

Din shakes his head truthfully. The soft porridge that had been breakfast that morning had been enough for him. “No. Sometimes I just wonder what it’d be like to walk the vendor’s and sample their food.”

Luke watches him carefully, “Can I touch your helmet?”

Din reaches up himself and touches the metal with the tips of his fingers. “Yes.”

Grogu has wandered back over, slotting himself into Din’s lap and watching with wide eyes as Luke scoots forwards and presses delicate fingers where Din’s had been the moment before. He holds perfectly still, save for his chest that rises and falls rapidly, breath rattling in his lungs as he fights to keep calm. Grogu reaches up as well, placing his entire small palm on Din’s cheek. It’s not the first time he’s son has touched his helmet, Grogu lays kisses on it, and wipes things from his hands onto it. Din knows his touch even through Beskar. He breaths, lets the touches stand stark against each other but trusting each. 

Luke is far more careful then Grogu is. Tracing over the contours of the metal with feather-like pads of his fingers. Din doesn’t mean to lean into it. Doesn't mean to tilt his head so Luke is forced to cup his face. He does with a breathless laugh escaping his lips.

“You act as though you have tamed a wild loath cat” Din murmurs lax and warm in the sun. Again the laughter that falls from Luke’s lips is soft as the air around them.

“Perhaps I have. You are some wild animal Din Djarin.” Luke whispers. He’s desperately close. Din can see how dark compared to his hair his eyelashes are. Long enough to frame his eyes and cast shadows down into his cheeks. He’s beautiful. A sharp intake of breath, “Thank you.”

“Did I say that out loud?” Din asks, sitting up a little, surprised at the lack of worry in his veins. Luke’s cheeks have turned a pretty shade of pink and he fiddles with the sleeve of his tunic.

“You did.”

“Oh. Well. It’s true,” why deny it now he thinks. Surely he is not the only one to see the beauty of the man sitting in front of him. He’s seen the way Valiant acts completely different around Luke, seen the way he watches him. Predatory and hungry. 

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Luke admits. Din huffs a laugh, readjusting Grogu, feeling his armor heat up under the sun. He places him in the cool grass allowing him to press against his beskar free side.

“Don’t say anything at all then.”

Luke chuckles, dropping his hands from Din’s helmet to his breastplate before snatching them away with a hiss of pain. Grogu lets out a massive yawn and Din decides that’s the determining factor. He reaches up to work off the golden metal lifting the breastplate and tossing it aside then laying back on the grass. Mumbling his sleepy approval when Grogu rolls onto his stomach pressing his side against Din’s and his cheek into the soft grass below him. He opens his arm as an invitation. If Luke wants to lay with him then there is a spot for him. Din realizes he likes the thought of having a spot for Luke. Likes the idea of Luke slotting into Din’s little family. When Luke takes the offer and lays down beside him, letting an arm drape across Din’s chest it feels all too right. 

It’s Terrick’s panicked wheezing that woke Din up. He’s confused as to where he is. It’s bright and hot, and whatever he’s laying on is scorching. There’s something heavy pressed to his chest and the soft exhale of someone’s breath on his wrist that’s bare. 

“Mand’alore!” Terrick hisses. Din’s eyes open and he sits up, or tries to, but there's a Jedi draped across his chest doing a pretty good job of keeping him in one place. The garden of green is gone, replaced with the sand, very hot sand. Din curses and gently as he could shift Luke off, turning instead to Grogu who had thankfully been tucked in close enough to Din that his shadow had prevented the sand from burning him. Luke is awake now, easing himself off of Din and giving Terrick a look out of the corner of his eye. “Mand’alore,  _ what are you doing. _ ”

He gets scolded all the way back to his room. He’d excused himself and Grogu from Luke’s presence as Terrick grew more and more angry, wobbling where he stood. 

“When I said entertain the representative from the New Republic, I meant to go over business in a less public area. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw you laying there with him. What are you thinking!?”

Din cringes, because really he hadn’t been. Luke was a little like a drug though. Intoxicating and mind numbing. Making Din’s thoughts derail at the sight of soft skin and eyes. Terrick continues to ramble on and Din turns his attentions to Grogu, grouchy and still half asleep. His little face is a little burned from the sun, pinking at his ears and in the apples of his cheeks. Din worriedly presses a hand to Grogu’s forehead.  _ Water _ . He thinks it probably wasn’t wise to spend so long outside when he had no idea when the last time Grogu had had anything to eat or drink. 

“Terrick,” he interrupts the old man’s spillage of unheard words. He sputters to a stop looking a little confused that he had still been talking. 

“Yes Mand’alore?”

“Do you think you could get me some water and food for my foundling?”

Terrick sighs in defeat, “Very well Mand’alore, but can you please promise to stop this reckless path you are going down. Perhaps you do not see the danger your actions could cause, but I do warn you.”

Din feels slightly bad for causing the old man so much distress. It seems to be the only thing he’s managed to give to him. He angles his head down into a shallow bow.

“I promise to give every action I take ample thought.” it’s a selfish promise, but in his heart and even his head Din knows he cannot promise what Terrick wishes him to. It’ll all come to an end eventually. Din thinks, soon. Too soon.

They part ways halfway to Din’s rooms, Terrick leaving them to go and find refreshment. Grogu has become a little more lucid as they draw nearer to Din’s quarters. He makes a little whining noise that breaks Din’s heart a little bit. He rubs his hand up and down Grogu’s back.

“I know, just give me a little bit.”

Filling the tub in his bathroom is interesting. Both father and son watch as the water fills the basin, not even halfway up. Din only fills it enough that it covers Grogu’s lap when he lowers into it. Terrick returns with the cream and pales once again at seeing Din kneeling by the tub working sweet smelling soap into Grogu’s hair. It’s a mess. Water and suds have still gotten everywhere and Grogu is less than happy to have to sit and endure the cleaning. They get it over with though, and relief floods through Din as he towels off Grogu who leans heavily against him. Mumbling about how soft the towel is.

Some of that relief sinks away when Terrick is still in Din’s room, gazing out the window towards the sand dunes that bleed ruddy orange in the sinking sun. Din places a clean and doctored Grogu onto silk pillows before turning to the older man.

“I cannot tell you how worried I am Mand’alore.”

“I know,” Din says. He stands next to Terrick as close as he doors. The old man turns watery grey eyes on him.

“Do you? If you did you would not be so careless with Luke. He’s powerful in the New Republic, and don;t think for a moment that I don’t know what he is. Only ignorant people don’t know who Luke Skywalker is.” The laugh that escapes Terrick’s lips is tired and strained, “ I wonder what they were thinking sending a Jedi here.”

“The Jedi are not our enemies anymore,” Din says. “That war ended long ago.”

“This is what I mean. You’ve been blinded by your affections.” Terrick snaps. “Jedi cannot be trusted. Do you ever wonder why our armor is made the way it is? To withstand the Jedi weapons.”

Luke’s green laser sword, a light saber he’d called it. The weapon was so different from Din’s own dark blade. His crackled and popped on impact and Luke’s hummed with power. If there was one thing that Luke had bested him in it was sparring with the swords. It was like watching a bird fly, in an odd way, when Luke wielded his light saber. Silent and clean and breathtaking. Din was clumsy, using the blade either like a much shorter dagger or a club. Luke was a patient teacher, knocking the sword from his hands over and over and over again, letting him get back up after holding his own sword close to Din’s neck with a grin. He’d always smile breathless as he may be and stick a hand out for Din to take. 

“I have no enemy with the Jedi,” Din murmurs. “And perhaps that is ignorant of me, but I know that Luke means no harm.”

Terrick lets out a withered sigh, “Dank ferrick, you’re reckless as a foundling on their first hunt.”

The profanity from such aged lips makes Din chuckle, “I’m sorry.”

Terrick moves towards the door, leaving Din to watch him walk away, “If it comes down to it Mand’alore and you plan on continuing this,” Terrick waves a hand vaguely around the room, “Then I may feel compelled to find someone more fit for the throne. Never,” the look he levels at Din is all grave seriousness, “Never has Mand’alore had two kings, and  _ never  _ has an outsider taken the throne.”

“I already am an outsider,” Din says, Terrick frowns deeper.

“I know.”

Din takes off his helmet when Terrick finally leaves. The confines becoming heavy and dank. Breathing deep, Din stares down at the gold, then over at Grogu who is frowning in his sleep, skin still pink.

“I can’t wear gold,” he whispers as if the walls would agree and give him the permission to leave. Din doesn’t run, not often at least, but now he’s so tempted. The hunger for a fight, to move and chase and catch. The bounty hunter that he’d trained himself into and that had slept dormant for months is reawakening. His blood sings with the need to  _ chase _ something. His heart thrashes at his rib cage with adrenaline that he can’t dispel. He sits heavily on the bed, letting the helmet slip from his fingers onto the floor. 

Terrick seemed greatly worried that the raging ball of feelings that have formed in Din’s chest over Luke will bring the downfall of Mandalore again. Din wasn’t a person you could have someone like Luke, he’d come to this conclusion that afternoon, walking back heavy from the impromptu nap. Luke trusted him more than Din deserved especially since Luke hasn’t even seen his face. The sun should not be hidden in the dark recesses of Mandalore. Din would never ask him to stay. Glancing with tired eyes at Grogu he wonders if Luke would take him back to the New Republic with him when he leaves. The planet is too dead for Grogu to live and be happy. Luke can take him back to his home and train Grogu to be who he’s supposed to be. Din can shake off being anything other than the Mand’alore and serve these people the way he’s expected. Unless of course Terrick finds someone to fight him for the throne, then he’d go let them have it.

Din buries his head in his hands. If the throne was given to someone else then he would have to start from the bottom, again. His chest shudders with the breath he forces from his throat. 

“Papa.”

He freezes, the helmet is on the floor and Grogu is awake crawling across the bed to peer at him. He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t breath. 

“Papa, are you crying?” Grogu asks. Din can feel his hands on his back, batting at his shoulders, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“No, kid. I’m not crying.” his voice is softer outside of the helmet. More human even to his own ears. 

“Are you sad?”

“A little,” Din admits. Grogu makes a little humming noise, and Din loves his kid so much for not immediately crawling over his shoulder to see his face, or cup his cheeks in that way he does. 

“Is it because Luke can’t be my other papa?”

Din sputters, “Where did you get that from?”

Grogu huffs, “Papa is sunny when he’s with Luke.”

Din laughs loud and long after that. Him, sunny, next to Luke. Impossible. He tells Grogu as much, reaching around to tickle at his side.

“Do you like Luke?” Din asks seriously, after Grogu has stopped squealing. Grogu scoots next to him on the bed, the helmet still sits between Din’s legs. 

“Yup. I do like him papa.”

Din picks up his son placing him on his lap, back to chest and presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’m glad.”

“Do you like him papa?” Grogu plays with his fingers. Din sighs, laying his cheek in dark curls.

“ A lot Grogu. A whole lot.”

“You should tell him then papa,” Grogu says. He’s playing with Din’s fingers picking them up and dropping them back down. “Cuz then if you tell him then he can stay with us forever.”

“You’d want that?”

“I jus said so.” Grogu pouts. Din chews at the edge of his lip staring at the other end of the room. 

“If you want to Grogu, you can go with him when he leaves. He’s going to have to leave soon.”

“Yes! Let’s go away from here and itchy clothes!”

“Not me. Just you and Luke.” Din says carefully.

Grogu goes still in his lap. Dropping his hand. “Not papa?”

“No,” Din says, “Not me.”

Grogu turns around and looks at him. His face is bare, and his son’s eyes are full of tears and confusion. Din wonders if he should be afraid, or feel something now that Grogu is looking at his face full on for the first time in his life.

“Why?” Grogu’s lips wobble and the tears in his eyes start to fall, large and unchecked down his face. “You said you’d never leave me again!”

Din squeezes his eyes shut, “ I know, I know. But you aren’t happy here Grogu and my entire purpose is to make you happy. Luke can help you with your powers too, he can take you frog hunting and let you play in the sun.”

Grogu looks completely lost. His little nose is running down onto his lips and Din uses the red cloth of his cloak to wipe it away. Grogu Wraps his arms around Din’s neck burying his damp face in his shoulder, grasping onto him like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear from under him.

“Don’t leave me papa, please. Please.” Grogu is begging at this point and Din’s own eyes are full of tears.

“I want you to be happy and safe, Grogu.”

“No!” Grogu yells, “No, no, no!”

“Shh, shh.” Din hushes him rubbing his hand up and down his back. Grogu fists the red fabric, sniffling and sobbing. “ I love you Grogu.”

Grogu falls asleep on him after his little body can’t take the exhaustion from crying so much. He still clings to Din’s cape and he let him, laying back on the bed with his armor still intact.

Grogu clings to Din the next day and refuses to let go. He glares at anyone who dares to try and pry him off. Wrapping angry little fists into red fabric. Luke watches in quiet concern from his spot in the middle of the table. That concern turns to slight hurt when Grogu completely refuses to let Luke touch him. Din waves him away, readjusting Grogu on his hip to sit more comfortably.

“Please proceed as normal,” Din grunts, flicking a hand in the direction of the other council members. Terrick takes a breath and then begins with the discussion of the New republic’s movements for the next couple of months. Luke talks calmly and intently if not at times a little distractedly. Din doesn’t blame him. Only yesterday had Grogu been friendly and excited to be in the presence of Luke and now he glared with dark wet eyes over Din’s shoulder at him. Din supposes he has every right to be angry. Din had promised that they would never be separated again and to Grogu’s tiny mind, that meant forever.

When the meeting is finally dismissed Din’s side is numb from Grogu’s weight and the pauldron on his shoulder is wet. Luke is waiting outside of the doors when Din comes out, having a one-sided sounding conversation with Valiant who is leaning against the wall and over into Luke’s space. Din tries not to bristle, too tired anyways. When Luke sees them though he pushes away from the wall and hurries towards them. Grogu makes a growly noise in the back of his throat as the Jedi draws nearer.

“You’re angry at us,” Luke says quietly, reaching up to brush Grogu’s bangs out of his face. Grogu lets out a tiny little sob, and Din is close to tears at this point as well. He wasn’t expecting this to cause his kid so much stress. Reaching down he grabs Luke’s hand, pulling him unabashedly into an empty room, thick with dusk and the smell of age. Luke is looking progressively more concerned and if Din thought correctly hurt. He’s turning on Din as soon as the door closes between them and the hall.

“What are you thinking Din!?” Luke exclaims, running a hand up through his hair. Din sighs.

“I’m guessing he told you. “

“Yes, he told me! You cannot possibly be thinking that's a good idea.” Luke hisses, he seems overwhelmed like he can’t quite process what Grogu told him.

“ He hates it here!” Din snaps. “I can’t keep him in a place like this. He needs sunshine and clean air, and someone who can help him with his powers.”

“Abandoning foundlings isn’t the way of the Mandalorians Din,” Luke bites. Din whirls around to stare at him.

“I’m not abandoning him! I would never.” Din is breathing heavy, the fact that Luke would insinuate that he would,  _ could,  _ abandon Grogu made him wild. “ It’s a kriffing sarlacc pit here Luke. I hate it here, he hates it here. Kriff, if one of us could get away then that’s enough.”

Luke blinks at him, shaking his head, “You don’t send your kid away Din. You don’t.”

Din grits his teeth as Grogu sniffles, agitated by the heated words. “I don’t want to.” Din says and his voice cracks. “ I never want to leave him again. I’ve lost him once, but if leaving him means he’s happy and safe then I’ll do it.”

“Have you asked him?” Luke asks. His voice is softer but his brow is still pinched.

Din sighs, “I did.”

Luke’s lips quirk up a little, “He wants to stay with you Din. He wants his dad no matter where he is.”

Grogu nods, knocking his head gently against the cheek of his helmet. “ I don't want to leave you papa. Please don’t make me leave.”

“Oh Grogu,” Din says and he’s crying now. The weight of everything that’s been put on his shoulders and the pain of wanting his son to be happy come crashing down on him. He doesn’t have the energy to fight Grogu or the Jedi on this anymore.

“Things will work themselves out Din. Don’t tear apart what you’ve fought so hard to build.”

Din looks down the hall out the open door to the empty city sitting in low hanging dust. “I can't keep you here if you’re not going to be unhappy.” Din murmurs to Grogu, “Do you understand that?”

Grogu makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat. Burying himself as close as he possibly can against Din. In turn Din tightens his arms around his son.

“No, papa,” Grogu says, “I don’t understand.” He feels Grogu pull the red fabric up and over his shoulder, wrapping it around his own shoulders. “Have I been bad?”

Din’s heart breaks all over again, and he lets out a wreck strangled sigh dropping his head in shame for making his baby think that he was being punished.

“Not at all. Never, never would I punish you like this Grogu, I- kriff. I messed up. I shouldn’t have asked you to understand this, not when I myself don’t understand.” Din presses his helmet to Grogu’s temple, “You aren’t going anywhere. I’m sorry I scared you, and I’m sorry,” he chokes again, “I’m sorry I broke your trust.”Din sighs, pulling Grogu away for his shoulder so he can look him in the eyes. “Can you forgive me?

Luke’s eyes are soft. Molten in the dim lighting looking at Din like he didn’t just mess up massively. Grogu, sniffles eyes still full of tears, little hands reaching out for his visor. 

“I forgive you papa.”

Din doesn’t deserve his kid, he decides. He doesn’t deserve him in this or any other galaxy. Luke’s chest rises and falls with a silent sigh, smile still in place. 

“I’m sorry for getting sharp with you.” Din says quietly, turning to face the Jedi head on. Luke waves him away.

“No worries. I understand.”

Din boosts Grogu higher onto his hip, tired all of the sudden. Luke steps close, squeezing Grogu’s hand.

“Are you still angry with me?” he asks, eyes sincere as he looks at the child. Grogu shakes his head and Din feels another smack of guilt for making Grogu feel the need to be hostile towards the other man. Luke beams, “I’m glad, and let me tell you,” he peers at Din a spark in his eye, “I’d never let your dad do something so stupid.””

“You’d have to come with us,” Grogu says with all the seriousness in the galaxy. Luke’s eyes flit back to Din’s visor.

“Yeah,” Din says, clearing his throat, “You’d have to come with us.”

Luke’s lips part smirking at Din, “Is that an invitation Mand’alore?”

Din shrugs, “Guess it could be.”

Luke softens again, “Then I guess perhaps I’ll have to think about it.”

Before Din can say anything, Adeline pokes her head around the door. Her smile flashes when she sees their little group.

“Ah, there you are. “ She saunters into the room, letting the doors slide closed behind her. Luke moves away from Din letting her take his place. Propping her hand on her hip she observes Din’s rumpled state and Grogu’s newly returned little glare. 

“Are they looking for me?” Din hopes they aren’t he doesn’t want to go back and deal with policies. 

“Nope,” She pops the p, “They’re looking for you.” she points at Luke.

“Oh, well. Okay.” Luke steps after Adeline, and Din grabs his arm before he goes. 

“Did you mean it?” he asks seriously. “You’ll think about it?”

Luke nods “Of course I was serious.”

It was many nights later, after days full of a clinging Grogu and increasingly frustrating meetings, him and Luke spending evenings together, that Din was shaken awake. He comes from his sleep with a weapon drawn, pressed flush against the throat of the person that dared disturb him. Grogu had slept on his right against that night leaving him closer to the door and therefore vulnerable to whoever came into the room. 

“Din, it’s me.” Luke says quietly and without a trace of fear for the blade pressed to his Adam's apple. 

Din lowers the knife, grateful that he had chosen to sleep in his helmet. “What are you doing here?” The moon filters through the windows, still high in the sky, the night far from over. Luke grins, holding out his hand, white robes loose around his shoulders. 

“I found something that I wanted to share with you. It’s just not the same during the day.”

Din debates, looking down at Grogu who was deeply asleep. He still felt odd about leaving him especially with the trust he still feels like he broke in the mend between father and son. If he were to awake and Din not be there, he doesn’t want to think about what could happen. But Luke’s eyes shine with trust and reassurance. His hair is a golden halo and the hand he holds out is tempting. Din takes it letting Luke pull him off the bed.

“Do I need to dress?” He’s in a pair of soft sleep pants. They brush at his ankles before stopping. Luke looks briefly down at his chest, cheeks pinking before looking away. 

“No. It’s warm out tonight. Unless you feel like you need to dress.”

Din shakes his head, leading the way out of the room hand still grasping Luke’s. They climb out of Luke’s window, feet leaving soft imprints on the sand outside that still hasn’t cooled completely from the heat of the day. The planet is silent, in a dead sort of way. No animals cry out into the night, no smell of smoke hangs in the air from the dark city. Luke leads him away from it’s depressing nature. He walks across the sand like he’s done it all his life and DIn follows, like a lost ship finally finding calm sea. Luke points up at the stars as soon as they leave the domed cities behind.

“There’s a constellation I believe was used to find this place before,” his voice is eaten by the sands around them, leaving it mute and shallow to their ears. Din looks up, mapping out the line of stars Luke is still tracing with his fingers. 

“And what is this place exactly?”

Luke laughs, tugging his hand again, pulling him to an outcropping of sun colored rock, bleached from the sun and chipped to stubby ends by the elements. Luke ducks into an opening that is barely more than a shadowed crack from afar. Up close it’s a wide opening big enough for Din to stand near upright in. A peculiar warmth wafts from inside and Din follows Luke, curiosity beating out caution. 

The opening is not a cave like Din thought it would be, but a large cavern with a high ceiling and walls that echoes bounce off of.. The stone inside is a greening blue, and the floor is broken by large pools of clear water, steaming softly. Din looks around the cavernous area then to Luke who is shedding his robes, dropping them to the floor in a soft pile. 

“Isn’t it magnificent?” Luke asks. He gestures around the room. Din nods knees feeling a little weak as he climbs down to Luke’s side. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, trying and failing not to look at Luke. 

“I’m going to sit in those pools,” Luke says a little cheekily, almost like he knows exactly what he’s doing. You should join me,” That holds a little hesitancy in it. “They feel nice. I promise.”

Luke looks like he wanted to say more but just smiles at Din and walks past him, dropping the remainder of his clothing before sinking into the largest pool with a satisfied groan. Din feels close to passing out. He approaches the pool cautiously, sitting on the side and dipping his feet in. The water is close to hot, soothing away the slight ache in the soles of Din’s feet from the walk. Luke looks up at him, folding his arms onto hard stone and laying his head against his arms.

“I leave in a few days,” he murmurs, and still his voice echoes around the cavern. Din hums, reaching out to brush the curling ends of Luke’s hair from his forehead.His eyes flutter and he leans into Din’s touch with a sigh.

“Lucky you,” Din replies only half jokingly. Luke’s lips lift and part on a smile but his eyes stay closed content to let Din cradle his face.

“I don’t know when I’ll get to return.”

Din tamps down the disappointment that raises in his stomach, “Do you want to return?”

Now Luke’s eyes open, cracking to reveal blue blow his heavy lids, “Of course. There are some things here that I have fallen quiet in love with.” 

Din leans down, the quiet admission spurring the dormant feeling in his gut to life. He presses his helmet to Luke’s forehead with purpose. It’s a kiss in all ways to his people, but it’s not enough. Not for him. Not when Luke's breath fogs against his visor. Not when he’s so close and open and willing. Not when Din feels brave enough to press their lips together.

“I want to kiss you,” it’s merely a whisper. Pushes from lips that tremble in excitement. Luke’s breath hitches.

“Then do it. Please Din.” 

_ Closer.  _ Din slides into the water, uncaring of his clothing and pulls Luke flush against him, “Say it again.” 

“Please Din.” Luke murmurs, eyes dark.

Din cups a hand over Luke’s eyes, rubbing his other hand into his hip bone where it’s still under the hot water of the pool.

“Do you trust me?” Din asks, soothing as best he can as Luke’s hand comes up to grasp at his wrist. Slowly Luke nods and drops his hand from Din’s wrist to his bare chest. Letting it rest over the beating of Din’s heart. Letting go of Luke’s hip, Din reaches up and removes his helmet, his hand still pressed firmly over Luke’s eyes. It clunks when he puts it down on the stone edge of the pool. He feels Luke stiffen, mouth opening. The beginning of words forming. Din doesn’t allow them to fall, pressing them together. Their lips slot into place and it’s enough for Luke to let out a pleased hum, forgetting whatever protest he was attempting to project. 

Din’s mind is whirling. The water lapping against his bare back, Luke’s fingers curled against his heart . Their lips that fit so perfectly together Din wonders where Luke has been his entire life. Din can kiss him forever. Wants to kiss him forever. Wants him to stay. 

It’s Luke who breaks the kiss, eyes hazy and breaths heavy. 

“Din,” his voice trembles and Din can imagine his lips are too. “Can I touch your face?”

Din takes Luke’s wrist, bringing his hand up to press his fingers gently to his cheek. He holds still as Luke traces over his facial features. Running his fingers over his cheeks scratching at the hair on his jawline and chin. Soft fingertips press against his freshly bitten mouth, tracing the curve of his bottom lips downwards. Luke leaves no part of his skin untouched. Let himself memorize it, soft smile on his face.

“Oh you’re so handsome Din,” Luke breaths.

Din can’t help but kiss him again. Leaving him breathless and wanting when he pulls away again. He lays their foreheads together now letting brown and blond tangle together.

“Have we just set ourselves up for heartbreak?” he asks. Luke’s chest shudders and he reaches up to cup Din’s face. “You leave in a few days, I stay, and already the council has voiced their displeasure at the time we spend together.”

Luke pulls him down and presses their lips together again, soft and sweet “Perhaps, but we have time Din. We have right now. Let's not spoil it with thoughts of what’s to come.”

Din tightens his grip on Luke’s face, adding a little more pressure. “A foolish choice.”

“Yes.”

At least, Din thinks, pressing Luke against the wall of stone, they’ll be foolish together.

______________

“Can you tell me about Mandalorian marriage laws?” The next few days had slowed in the influx of business considerably and Din finds himself once again sitting dormant and bored on his throne. Perla peers at him from where she sits on the steps to the right of his feet a dagger and many books laid out around her. The dagger is in her hands shining in the light spilling into the hall. The cloth she’d been using to clean the weapon sat on her knee. Din had made the mistake one boring afternoon to challenge her to a dual. He’d been on the floor in two minutes flat. He’d ignored the satisfied look on Luke’s face as he limped out of the arena. 

“You want to know about Mandalorian marriage laws?”

“Yes,” Din says. He leans forwards, catching the spear he had forgotten about right before it hit the ground. Perla raises an eyebrow at him.

“And why by the stars is that.”

Din sighs, leaning back again, “Well I know for my people we’re a little different. I was just wondering how you do it here on Mandalore.”

Perla chews her lips and watches him, “I’m not too sure. Any record of how the ceremonies were first performed have long since been destroyed. I think every clan does it a little differently, and for the Mand’alore I don’t know if it would be any different. “

Din nods accepting the answer in understanding. It was mainly wishful thinking that had made the question arise. His nights as of late had been filled with the warmth and love that Luke brought, coupled sometimes with a desperate desire blooming from understanding how their time was running out. A piece of silk sat on Din’s bedside table to be wrapped and tied around Luke’s eyes. The trust he showed Din the first night’s he’d come to him with the fabric had made him fall deeper in love. There was no demand to show Luke his face, no resentment or reluctance between them just because Luke had only ever felt Din’s face.

“If it makes you feel better it is not uncommon for two men or two woman to join together. Terrick is at times ignorant.”

Din nods slowly. Wondering when he had become so transparent. “That is good to know.”

They sit in silence. Perla is looking back down at her dagger, twirling it a bit in her grip before sheathing it. 

“The New Republic moves a lot,” she says a little off offhandedly. Din blinks, peering down at her face. She’s smiling a little looking away from Din and towards the doors at the end of the halls.

“I suppose. They stay mobilized to keep safe,” Din says. Perla smiles wider.

“If only there were some way to ensure a bond always stays intact between them and Mandalore.”

“Wh-,” Din’s eyes widen and he stands, the spear falls to the floor with a clatter. Perla beams at him now. “What will the rest of the council think though?”

“They will see it as a bold political move. A bold move that Mandalore needs right about now.” Perla stands, “You love him. Let nothing else stand in your way.”

______________________

It’s late when Luke and Din finally find themselves alone with each other. Din is a raging ball of nerves. Luke’s six months on the planet is drawing to an end in two days. The New Republic finally requesting the return of their Jedi. Din had seen it affect Luke. He played and hugged and loved on Grogu more then normal, and with Din it was all hungry kisses and flaming passion that eventually would melt into soft tracing of fingers over Din’s features. They're in the training room now. Blades out, Luke’s face cast into shadows of black and green. Din puts away the Darksaber first, motioning for Luke to put his own weapon away then holding out his arms. 

Luke slots perfectly into his embrace, breathing out a ragged breath. Din knocks his helmet gently against the top of Luke’s head in the mimic of a kiss.

“I don’t want to go,” Luke mumbles. 

“You know I’ll still be here even when you do go.” Din says. Luke hums a little sad. “I actually had something to ask you.”

“What is it?” Luke asks, eyes turning up to look at Din’s helmet.

“Grogu loves you,” Din starts. “ I love you. Things just wouldn’t be the same without you, and my pauldron is empty.”

Luke blinks at him like he’s never seen him before. “What are you saying Din?”

“Become the third member of clan Djarin?”

Luke’s eyes go wide, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes.” Din says. “Marry me Luke.”

For a brief and terrifying moment Din thinks Luke is going to say no. That he’s going to be left here on this planet with a broken heart and pride. Instead though, Luke throws his arms around Din’s shoulders, presses a kiss to this helmet and says: “I’m going to have so much explaining to do when I see my sister again."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess and completely unedited. I wrote it for an hour each day for two weeks during a free period at school. It's messy and a little bit plotless, but I enjoyed writing it immensely and I hope you enjoy reading it and can forgive any mistakes you find.
> 
> I also know that Mandalore feels very unlike Star Wars but I liked the way I wrote it.
> 
> I may add a second chapter to this which will be a much shorter epilogue. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!~ Insomniac
> 
> P.S. very little research went into the politics of Mandalore in this so it's probably 100% inaccurate.


End file.
